Or Maybe Something More
by BabyBeaver
Summary: MAJOR thanks to Luke for suggesting the title. Inspired by two of Scribbler's YGO fics. It might stink, but I'll let you decide. Rated M for rape. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Confession

**Inspired by two of Scribbler's YGO fics, **_**A Ship Sailing Over the Edge**__**of the World**_**, and **_**Forget Everything I Ever Told You**_**. Oh, and a Fillmore! fic I once read dealing with Ingrid and her dad and child abuse…which I can no longer find…**

**Might switch POVs throughout… I may turn the opposite POVs into different chapters… Dunno yet. It's just a bunch of ideas bouncing around in my head as of yet. **

**Sorry if it's kind of OOC for either of them, but I haven't seen the show in **_**FOREVER**_**, so I don't really remember everything about the characters…**

* * *

The silence was strange, alien, foreign compared to the silences they'd shared in the past. Those had been comfortable, had fit into their conversations as easily as the actual conversing had. Now, he wished he could think of something to fill the air—even a random crack like old times. 

But he feared "old times" were lost, as bizarre as the present lack of speech.

Why hadn't she told him? Or at least _someone_? Why had she kept it a secret? How could she not have known that this would be as obvious to her friends as a black panther in a room of white-washed walls?

Looking back, he realized he _had _figured it out—somewhat. He'd known _something_ was wrong, just hadn't been sure _what _at the time.

The signs had all been right there, right under his nose—surely he wasn't the only one to have noticed them?

No, he couldn't have been. The others were just as perceptive as he, he reminded himself—especially when it came to close friends. If one had noticed something seemed off, then they had all suspected it.

He watched her, noticing yet again how different she seemed and wanting to do something about it. But he feared what would happen if he mentioned anything…

After five more glances at the clock—had it really only been ten minutes??--he cleared his throat and asked, "Why didn't you say anything?"

She sighed as she looked at him, green eyes slightly clouded.

"Because," she replied, pausing for a moment as if sorting through her thoughts for the right reply. Finally settling on one, she continued with him gazing anxiously at her, "Because, if I had mentioned anything earlier, the gang would've gone berserk. I didn't want you all worrying about something that I figured I could handle myself. I didn't want you reacting the way I figured you would." She cracked a grin. "You guys are so protective, especially of me."

He wanted to scream, to get up and shake the living daylights of the next unfortunate soul who should pass their way, but he reluctantly restrained himself, managing a controlled, "How can you stay so…chipper? I mean, you went through…Hell…and you're sitting here giggling about your situation! Don't you ever get mad about it?"

She looked at him, a look he knew all too well: Her "I'm-going-to-tell-you-the-truth-even-though-you-might-not-like-it" look, a look of genuine honesty he rarely saw on any face but hers. He knew better than to speak negatively when she looked at him like that—he'd gotten many gently sharp (sharply gentle?) responses for that act in the past and didn't like it.

The look warning him, he kept his mouth shut as his companion answered softly, "Not really. I've come to terms with my…situation, as you've so cleverly dubbed it."

The look intensified as he opened his mouth, and he shut it again with an audible, ticked-off "Humph."

She smiled almost sadly, much to his chagrin, continuing, "I'm used to it by now, and don't you dare try to treat me differently because of this. That's another reason I didn't want to tell anybody—they'd feel sorry for me, and I don't want anybody's pity or sympathy. I just wanna be treated like the normal, functioning person I am. I'm perfectly capable of doing the same things other people do. I'm perfectly fine."

She'd noticed his pained expression at the beginning of her spiel and had glared at him even more determinedly. But of _course_ she'd noticed—she'd always had a knack for reading body language and facial expressions, a talent he'd often wished he'd possessed.

And speaking of wishing, he wished this had never happened, that she'd never gotten hurt, and _**especially**_ that he hadn't had to hear the news almost two months after she'd already been going through the ordeal. He'd give anything—_**anything**_—to make this all go away so that they wouldn't have to live through anymore of the heartache they were all facing right now.

* * *

His face was contorted, a look she knew all too well. He was thinking, angry & confused, about what had happened the past few weeks, and about how he had finally found out about her dilemma… 

_**--Flashback--**_

"**Hey, ****you've reached the Fillmore residence. We can't get to the phone right now. Leave a message and we'll get back to you ASAP. Muchas gracias!"**

_Beep._

"Crackers, I forgot you knew Spanish… Anyway, it's Ingrid. Thought I'd let you know I'm back and…that's about it…"

_Beep._

* * *

"Hello?" 

Her voice was like music to his ears, a melody he'd missed hearing the past few weeks…

_Did I just think that? Dawg, I gotta stop reading all those goofy magazine articles._ He shook his head to clear away the mushy thoughts, and cleared his throat.

"Um, Ingrid?"

"Fillmore?" She sounded happy to hear from him. Surprised, but happy. He smiled, a slight upturn of his lips.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Hey. What's up?"

He cringed, responding, "I should be asking you the same thing. You kinda dropped off the face of the planet a few weeks ago, girl."

He winced at the sound of his voice as the statement left his lips. He sounded like an angry Safety Patroller, like he was accusing her of something, as he would a perp in the interrogation room. Before she could reply, he blurted, "Sorry for the harshness. I'm just…"

He sighed, gathering his courage.

"I…I just…missed you."

There, he'd said it. And he felt slightly calmer.

There was an expected beat before her voice replied calmly, "It's okay. I was…" She paused. "You missed me?"

She sounded surprised, like she hadn't expected him to even realize she'd been gone. He could see her eyebrows rising at the thought. He smiled at the image, trying to keep his voice level as he responded, "Of course I missed you. We all did. You're a Safety Patroller, the smartest kid in school…people notice you, Ing. We notice when you're there, and we _definitely_ notice when you're gone. How come you ditched us?"

He heard her sigh, saw it in his mind, and his smile widened.

Her response, however, made the smile fade.

"Fillmore, I…need to tell you something. But I think I should do it in person. Can you…can we meet somewhere, maybe?"

He looked at the clock. _Almost seven._ "Sure. What did you have in mind?"

---

_Dawg, this is uncomfortable. Why am I so fidgety??_

He'd been sitting on "his" bench for almost ten minutes, the ticking of the clock tower wreaking havoc on his brain. With every second that passed, his mind kicked out scenarios of what was to come, along with possible conversations they could have, each slightly disturbing.

* * *

Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw him sitting there, the butterflies in her stomach picking up their speed. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then quickly made her way toward him.

* * *

She looked less pale, he realized as she walked toward him, her black hair pulled back from her face. 

_Has she been…tanning?_ he wondered, surprise making its way across his face as quickly as she made her way across the park.

When she reached him, he stood, and her surprised expression made him chuckle as he gave her a hug.

"Fillmore, are you…laughing at me?" she asked, an eyebrow rising in confusion and disbelief.

"Not you, your expression," he corrected gently, smiling as they both sat down.

"Sure," she acknowledged with a teasing grin. But her expression changed as she continued, "Sorry I kept you waiting."

"Ten minutes isn't that long, Ing."

"Not just tonight, Fillmore. The past couple of months. I disappeared, and I shouldn't have, but I didn't know what else to do." Her head dropped. "I'm sorry."

"Ing," he said, his tone making her head pop up again, "you have nothing to be sorry for. If you disappeared, it was for a good reason."

"Yes, it was," she whispered, the comment barely audible.

He knew that expression, the one that meant she was struggling with at least one emotion, if not more. His concern grew, and he asked, "Ingrid, what's wrong?"

Suddenly, his partner was crying, something Fillmore was not used to. Ingrid had always been the no-emotion type of person, and now she was _crying_? Fillmore was lost.

Ingrid snatched a tissue from her pocket, wiping at her eyes, a blush creeping across her face.

_That's new…_

"Sorry," she sniffed. "I'm just…I don't know how to tell you this…"

"Ingrid, if something's wrong, tell me, and I promise I'll help you any way I can."

"I know you will, Fillmore, but this is really hard."

"It's okay. I've got time. I swear, I'm not leaving until you want me to."

"Fillmore…You've always been a good friend…"

"And I always will be. Now, what happened? Is it your family? Did something happen to your dad?"

"No, not Dad. Not Ariella, either." Ingrid inhaled slowly, then…

* * *

"Fillmore…Iwasraped." 

_There, I said it._

"What?" He blinked at her. "Did you just say…_raped_?"

Ingrid nodded.

His expression was a mix of emotions—she could see anger, fear, concern, and…_tears? He's crying? Crackers. I didn't know Fillmore cried…_

"Fillmore?" she tried, but he wouldn't look at her.

_**--End Flashback--**_

"Cornelius!"

"Huh? Wha?" He blinked, shaking his head. Her face showed worry and concern, along with just a hint of annoyance.

"Fillmore, if I have to practically scream your first name to get your attention, it's not good. What were you thinking about?"

"You know exactly what I was thinking about—don't pretend you don't."

_Crud, that came out wrong._

He had no time to correct himself or apologize. Ingrid spoke milliseconds after he did, her voice shaky and her eyes still moist. "Fillmore, please. Watch your tone."

"I know. I'm sorry. But Ingrid, you have to expect me to be upset—"

"More like furious," she interrupted, giving him a stern look.

"Alright, furious. But you know me.I can't always control my temper, remember?"

"Got that right."

"Hey, now who's got the tone problem?"

She sighed. "Sorry."

"It's okay. We're both…upset right now. It's expected. But Ingrid, why didn't you tell me? Do you know who did it? Maybe we could help you find out. When did it happen, exactly?"

"Fillmore. Stop thinking like a Safety Patroller."

"Ingrid. I'm thinking like your friend, who happens to be a Safety Patroller. Get used to it."

"Can we…not discuss it here, please?"

He looked around. "What's wrong with the park?"

She blinked. "I just…I'd rather be at home, alright?"

"Alright, let's go." He stood, offering her his hand.

She took it, that surprised look once again capturing her face as he helped her up from the bench.

Silently, the pair began walking, their footfalls taking the place of conversation until they reached the Thirds' home and were (almost) comfortably seated in Ingrid's room.

"Alright, _now_ can you explain it to me?"

Ingrid's eyebrows rose, and he winced. "Sorry. But seriously. Please?"

She sighed, grabbing a box of tissues from her bookshelf before beginning, "It was about six weeks ago…exactly that two days from now, actually…and I was walking home late—"

"That was the night you made me head home without you, wasn't it?" Fillmore's face was etched with sorrow, as if he thought it was his fault.

"Yes, that was the day you stayed 'til almost nine because you wanted to help clean up that beef stew catastrophe, even though you'd practically gotten a concussion during the chase. But anyway, I was walking home—"

"Ingrid, what time did you leave X?"

"Fillmore, quit interrupting."

"Tell me."

"It was only half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes after you left. Promise. May I finish my story now? Be prepared for waterworks…"

"Yeah, sure. Sorry."

"Thank you. As I was saying, I was walking home, and," she sniffed, "he grabbed me, shoved me into a van, and he and some other guy talked while one of them drove…it seemed like forever, and I thought they were kidnapping me. I would've talked, but the guy who grabbed me stuffed a sock in my mouth. Not fun. And when they finally stopped, we were in some sort of abandoned building—all I saw of the name was an S and part of what was probably an I or an H—and…and…"

"Ingrid, what?"

Fillmore's voice was gentle, and he moved closer to her, not sure what else to do.

"There were more guys in the building…"

Anger overtook him when he realized what her statement meant.

"How many?" he demanded gently, tipping her tear-stained face up so he could see her expression.

She was hiccupping between tears, and her response was barely audible. "At least three, maybe more…"

"Five guys? Did all of them hurt you?" He was furious, the anger rising with each second that passed.

A hiccup, then, "Yes. In more ways than one."

He blinked. "You mean…what do you mean?"

"I mean not just one form of rape, but two or three, plus the fact that a couple of them would punch me if I made any noise at all."  
"Ingrid…" _When I get my hands on those guys…_

"Fillmore, don't. Don't try and find them."

"Ingrid, they tortured you. They should be locked up for life for what they did."

The anger in his voice almost scared him, and he knew it was affecting Ingrid, but still he spoke. He had to convince her to let him help.

"You won't find them."

"Ingrid, did they threaten you? Tell you they'd kill you if you told?"

"Fillmore, I know how these things work. I'm a Safety Patroller, after all."

"Yes, and as such, you should want to go after them." A thought dawned on him, and he asked softly, "Are they students—or teachers—at X? Are they—any of them—guys you consider your friends?"

Her expression told him that at least one of his guesses was correct, and he wracked his brain, trying to figure out which one would make Ingrid this afraid.

"Ingrid, you have to tell me. If they're teachers, they could be doing this to other students. If they're students, it could be the same thing. And if they're your friends…then they're in big trouble and aren't your friends."

Ingrid sniffed again, then stared at him. "Put yourself in my shoes, Fillmore. I've gotten used to the thought by now, and I'm happy to not think about it anymore. It's over, and I'm doing just fine."

"Obviously not," Fillmore muttered, and Ingrid's glare intensified.

"Excuse me?"

"Ing, you're obviously not okay. If you were okay, you'd be going after them, and you would've told me or Tehama or somebody about what happened. You're not yourself, and it's scaring me," he said, standing.

"Where are you going?" Ingrid asked, voice shaky.

"Home for now. I don't think I feel like continuing this discussion right now. I'm gonna give us both a couple days to think about what we've both said, and maybe we'll finish this later."

* * *

Mer. Crappy ending, but oh well. 

So, does it stink? Is it okay? I'd like some feedback, and maybe ideas for the next chappy. I've got it partly written, only WB struck, and I haven't continued it yet. o.o

And I can't remember when I started writing this, but it's MINE, so NO STEALING! Thanks. :-D


	2. Confusion

**Spotty cow, I found one other Fillmore! Fic that helped inspire me to write this one. It's not the one about Ingrid and child abuse (still can't find that one—It was called Daddy's Little Girl, I think), but it's about Ingrid and … uh…abuse. Abellen's Shattered. Go read it. It's in my favorites. Somewhere.  
****You'll find this story VERY similar to Shattered, which must be because I remembered the story sub-consciously. I promise I didn't try to copy it.**

**Meep. I own nothing.**

**Might not be as great as a few of you seemed to think the first chapter was, as I'm dealing with Writer's Block, but…it's coming along.**

**Oh, and I don't know exactly when this takes place episode-wise, but probably after all the actual episodes (which were when Fillmore and co were seventh and eight graders). Probably when they're in high school sometime. Maybe tenth or eleventh grade-ish? Totally guessing on ages and stuff. I kind of assumed from Danny's comment in Next Stop, Armageddon, that he was younger than Fillmore and Ingrid. He might not be, but that what I'm going with, so work with me, kay?**

**With a couple new characters, but mostly the originals.**

**NOT related to Sunday Dinner or Becoming Somebody.**

**OH! And, in the last chapter, when Ingrid tells Fillmore about what happened? Change nine to six. They wouldn't have stayed that late, I don't think. O.o;;;**

**--**

**Shout-out time!**

**Queen S of Randomness 016: Awesome start? Really? You like it that much? Spotty cow, my first reviewer totally made my day. Thanks! I hope you like this chapter even half as much as you liked the first, and sorry it took so long to update!**

**midnightdancer: I…surprised you by writing this? Cool. :D Jumping jellybeans (which is awkward because I dislike jellybeans), I can watch Fillmore again? YAY!**

**Anon.: Suspense is kind of…ironic, as I myself dislike it, but I'm glad you like it so far. Let's hope you're not disappointed by the rest of the story… o.o**

_**And if any of you have suggestions as to what I can do next, pleasepleasePLEASE let me know—I could use some inspiration!**_

* * *

Three days had gone by without a word from Fillmore, and she decided calling him might be her only option. She'd tried talking to him at school, leaving him notes, even raising him on the Talkie, all to no avail. 

She sighed, picking up the phone and dialing her partner's number.

It rang twice before a distinctly feminine voice inquired, "Hello?"

"Um, Mrs. Fillmore?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, it's Ingrid—"

"Ingrid!" The older lady's voice was filled with surprise and happiness. "It's good to hear you're back. You're looking for Cornelius, yes?"

"Um, yes, I am. Is he home?"

"Sure. Just a minute. I don't think he's left for school just yet."

"Thank you."

"Of course." Ingrid could hear the smile in Fillmore's mother's voice.

There were a few beats of silence before Fillmore's voice came over the line, and she realized he sounded tired as he asked, "Ingrid?"

"Yeah, it's me. Look, before you say anything, I've been thinking, and I realized that you're right. I should be looking for those jerks. So, will you help me?"

"Of course. But, Ingrid, you gotta tell me if you knew any of 'em."

"I know."

"Did you?"

She sighed. _Here goes…_

"Actually, yes. They're all students—perps—at X who I've helped catch."

She heard him sigh before he said, "I thought that might've been it. So who were they? D'you remember?"

Ingrid scoffed as she answered, "I have a photographic memory, Fillmore. Most of it's engraved in my mind."

"Right. Sorry." Ingrid could imagine him cringing slightly, and replied gently, "'S'okay."

She heard the sigh before Fillmore asked, "Okay, so, who were they?"

* * *

_Dawg._

The list of students Ingrid gave him came as a bit of a surprise, though he'd suspected a few of the students would have been included.

The last name was one he never would have thought of.

"Peters?" he asked. "That scrawny little German kid?"

"Yep, that's him."

"The kid we busted for stealing CDs from the Tech Club?"

"Yes, Fillmore," Ingrid replied, sounding irritated.

"Sorry. I'd ask you if you're positive, but I already know the answer."

"Yes. You do."

"Okay, so, are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I told you three days ago. Didn't you write it down or something after you left?"

He could tell she was annoyed, and kept his voice level as he replied, "Uh, no. I forgot." He kicked himself mentally, clutching the phone and adding, "Dawg…"

"Fillmore, don't beat yourself up over it. It's okay."

He sighed, grabbing paper and pencil. "Alright. How about you tell me again what happened so I can write it down this time."

He could hear her smile as Ingrid replied, "Good plan, Officer. Meet you at school?"

-F-

A few minutes later, after rushing around to find breakfast, Fillmore was standing outside X Middle School, half of a bagel in hand. He glanced up at the sound of footsteps, noticing the unusual footwear first, then the rest of the ensemble. An eyebrow raised, he asked, "Somebody else pick out your clothes today, Third?"

She was dressed differently, in jean shorts that came slightly higher than her dresses usually did, and underneath her winter jacket, he thought he could see a white T-shirt. Or was it a sweater?

_Either way, it's weird for Ingrid… _

"Very funny, Cornelius," Ingrid replied, giving him a look that made him chuckle as she continued, "And if you must know, I dressed myself this morning, just like every other morning."

Fillmore grinned. "I'm sure you did."

Ingrid's glare surprised him, but he turned toward the school and declared, "Let's go inside. It's warmer in HQ."

"Because of the temperature? Or Vallejo's hot air?"

Fillmore chuckled again, holding the door open for his partner as he said, "Glad to see your time away hasn't affected your sense of humor."

As she entered the school, he added, "And actually, it's more like the temperature's rising because Anza and Tehama blush whenever they look at each other and Vallejo's spewing hot air over their…'romantic involvement,' as he likes to say."

"So it's typical Safety Patrol stuff," Ingrid interpreted with a smile.

"Exactly." He grinned, leading the way to Safety Patrol HQ and opening the door yet again, receiving a raised eyebrow from Ingrid.

"What's with the sudden chivalry, Cornelius?"

"What?" Fillmore asked, a grin crossing his face. "I can't hold a door open for my partner? C'mon, what's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's just weird coming from you." Ingrid replied, heading for her desk.

"Weird?" Fillmore asked, frowning. "How is it weird?"

Ingrid ignored him, focusing on getting to her chair.

Fillmore followed her, grabbing her arm gently, hesitating only for a moment when he felt her arm tense under his touch. "Ingrid, what is so weird about me opening doors for people?"

"Fillmore, can't you drop it? It's not that important," Ingrid answered, turning her head to give him an inquisitive, confused stare. "And can you please let go of my arm?"

Someone cleared their throat, and Vallejo's voice stated, "Sorry to interrupt, but welcome back, Ingrid."

Fillmore let go of Ingrid's arm, and the girl genius's eyes focused on the Junior Commissioner. "Thanks, Vallejo. It's nice to be back."

"It's nice to have you back. You can help us catch up on some of these cases," Vallejo continued, waving at the pile of papers littering Tehama's desk.

As Ingrid stared at him, Vallejo shrugged, turned back to his office, and could be heard mumbling, "And I thought Anza and Tehama were bad…"

Fillmore's gaze went back to Ingrid, who sighed and finally sat down behind her desk, looking back at him with a, "What?"

He shook his head, settling at his own desk as he replied, "Nothing. Forget it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ingrid stand up, take a few of the papers off of Tehama's desk, and heard her mumble, "Boys" to Tehama, who chuckled as Ingrid returned to her seat.

Shutting his eyes for a moment, Fillmore sighed.

His eyes popped open as something landed on his desk, and he picked up the note, recognizing the handwriting immediately. He cast a glance over at Ingrid, but his partner's gaze was fixed on the case file in front of her, her eyes scanning the pages at the speed of light. Rolling his eyes, he read the note, which was actually Ingrid's statement about being raped, and closed his eyes again. The faces and the scene that appeared startled him. His eyes flew open and he sat up straight in his chair, placing a hand on his forehead as his friends looked at him in surprise and concern.

Anza walked over, asking with a frown, "Fillmore? Somethin' wrong?"

"Uhh…No, Anza. I'm good. But thanks." Fillmore tried to smile, and Anza walked back to his desk with an unsure, "Okay, if you're positive…"

Giving the others a smile, Fillmore stood and leaned against Ingrid's desk until she looked up, looking confused and inquisitive.

He held up the note, asking, "Can we talk?"

Closing the file she'd been looking at, Ingrid nodded and stood up, following him out of the office, both ignoring the looks from their fellow Safety Patrollers.

Fillmore led the way down the hall, stopping a few yards from HQ.

"Ingrid, you really should have told an adult about this."

"Didn't have to. Ariella figured out something was wrong and told Dad, who interrogated me until I told him what had happened."

"What about the police? Did anybody tell them?"

Ingrid's head dropped and she shook her head. "No. I didn't want them to."

Her head snapped back up before he could reply and she warned him, "Please don't scold me or anything. I know I should've told somebody, but…my common sense wasn't working at the time."

"Well it's working now, right?" he asked, smiling softly.

"Yeah," Ingrid replied, her smile matching his.

Both were silent for a moment, and Fillmore's gaze dropped a few inches. Of course, the Girl Genius caught it and raised her eyebrows, reminding him, "Fillmore, eyes."

He blinked and smiled apologetically, turning his head to look at the lockers across the hall. "Sorry."

"Don't we have a case to solve?" Ingrid asked him, heading back to the office.

"Right," he agreed, following her.

His steps slowed as she reached the door and turned back, an inquisitive looks on her face as she asked, "You coming?"

"I…uh…I'm gonna go use the bathroom quick. I'll be there in a few."

With a look that said she didn't quite believe him but trusted him, Ingrid nodded and stepped back into HQ. Sighing, Fillmore headed for the restroom as he'd promised, staring at himself in the mirror.

"Get a grip, man," he told himself, splashing his face with cold water. "She's a victim. Bad timing, Cornelius. You've got a friend to help and a job to do. Go do it."

* * *

"Hey, Ingrid. Didja scare Fillmore away or something?" 

"Funny, Anza," Ingrid smiled, glancing at the grinning teenager. "Actually, he went to the bathroom. Should be back any second."

As if on cue, Fillmore came through the door, heading straight for Vallejo's office, not bothering to knock.

Ingrid sighed, looking back at the file on her desk. She didn't get very far—Tehama perched on her desk before she could open the folder.

"Yes?" she inquired of her friend. "Need something?"

"Just curious. What'd you and Fillmore talk about?"

Ingrid blinked, not sure how to respond, which was unusual.

"Um, why?" she asked, looking up at the other girl, who was smiling teasingly.

"Oh come on. You two left two minutes ago, you came back in without Fillmore, who comes back with a wet face thirty seconds later and goes to talk to Vallejo. What happened? Fillmore decide to go solo?"

Ingrid almost jumped at the question, her eyes narrowing as she exclaimed, "No! He's probably just talking to Vallejo about an upcoming convention or something."

"Mmhmm…" Tehama didn't look convinced, but left Ingrid to finish flipping through the file, which she dropped in surprise when Fillmore asked, "Anything interesting in that stack of papers, Third?"

"Uh, not particularly. Just your average, every day X High issues."

"Give it to Johnson."

"Huh?" she and Greg spoke at the same time, exchanging looks.

"Why me?" Greg whined, staring at Fillmore with narrowed blue eyes.

"Because, Greg," Fillmore answered seriously, "you have the fewest number of papers on your desk and Ingrid and I have places to be."

"We do?" Ingrid asked, eyebrows knitting together as she looked at him.

"Yeah. We do." Fillmore turned to Danny. "O'Farrell. Grab your camera. You're coming with us."

Fillmore picked up the file from Ingrid's desk and tossed it to Greg, who managed to save all but one page from landing on the floor, and Fillmore headed for the door once again.

Ingrid shrugged at Greg, her step quickening as she followed Fillmore, ignoring the teasing look from Anza and the comments from the other Safety Patrollers, including a slightly annoyed Danny, who was juggling his camera and a sandwich while trying to keep up.

When she finally caught up with Fillmore, he was leaning against the lockers at the other end of the hall, waiting.

"What was that about?" she asked, confused. "Greg's not happy, and Anza's being dumb and suggestive, and—"

"Ingrid," her partner stated, "we do have someplace to be." He looked at Danny. "You might wanna leave your sandwich, O'Farrell."

"What? Why?" Danny asked, his expression nervous (as usual) as he looked from Ingrid to Fillmore.

Ingrid frowned. "Fillmore, are we going where I think we're going?"

"That depends. Where do you think we're going?"

He continued walking down the hallway, pulling something from his pocket as the trio left the building and headed to the parking lot.

Ingrid's eyes widened as she realized what the item was and narrowed as Fillmore looked at Danny.

"Fillmore, what are you doing?" Danny asked, sounding confused. "And why did you need me?"

"You still got that video camera, O'Farrell?"

"Well, yeah, right here, but what's that got to do—"

"We're going to do a little experimenting, and I want you to document it for me."

Ingrid sighed. "I should've known you'd want to do something like this to find out what happened."

"Ingrid," her partner's voice stated, a hint of humor reaching her ears, "I'm surprised. I thought you knew me."

She ignored the comment and asked, "So, are we walking or what?"

Fillmore turned, pointing to something in the parking lot. "Nope. Vallejo's letting us borrow his truck."

Danny whistled, and Ingrid's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Really? He's trusting you with that, after everything you've destroyed in your career?"

"You wanna walk?"

"I never said that," she smiled, heading for the truck. "But I think I'd prefer you…_not_ driving."

"Who you gonna get to drive? Danny's too young yet, and—"

"What about me?" she reminded Fillmore, eyebrows rising yet again.

"But shouldn't you be riding so you can tell me if you recognize things?"

"They made a mistake by not blindfolding me—I was able to see where we were heading. If I drive, we'll get there faster. Good memory, remember?"

She smirked, knowing they both knew she was right, and Fillmore sighed, tossing her the keys. "Alright, you can drive."

Ingrid laughed. "Don't worry, _Cornelius_. I won't kill you or anything. Now can we get going? I've got some catching up to do, and I'd like to get back to school ASAP to study for that make-up test."

As they climbed into the truck, Fillmore grinned. "Study? Since when does Ingrid Third worry about studying?"

Danny laughed, juggling his things while trying to open his door.

"Fillmore, help O'Farrell get in the truck, please."

"Yes, Mom." Fillmore grinned, jumping out of the truck as Ingrid swatted at him, turning around to make sure he and Danny didn't break anything.

"O'Farrell, gimme the sandwich."

Danny sighed, surrendering the device to Fillmore before hopping into the truck and snatching it back, turning it on as Fillmore climbed back in.

"So, where we heading?"

Fillmore sighed, and Ingrid grinned at him.

"Sure you want O'Farrell along?" she asked, starting the pickup and guiding it out of the parking space.

Fillmore's voice was softer than usual as he replied, "Actually, it was Vallejo's idea. Apparently he thinks we still need a babysitter."

"Well, _you_ might," Ingrid laughed, raising her eyebrows as Fillmore's hand moved toward her an inch.

"I'm driving. Please don't distract me," she reminded him, smiling at his lack of comment as she pulled the truck out of the parking lot and onto the road.

* * *

Wow. Just under 2500 words. Last chapter was just over that. Next chapter might be about the same length, or it could be different. I dunno yet. 

Ideas are welcome! In fact, they're encouraged and needed…


	3. Concern

**Third installment (always wanted to use that word. XD) of Sorry: No Title Yet. If you've got ideas for a title, please let me know, because I'm stuck. O.o**

**And if there's anything you think needs fixing (grammar or whatever), let me know about that and I'll try to fix it. Or if you've got ideas for future chapters (I have no clue how many there's gonna be at this point—maybe four or five or maybe more) or anything else. I'd appreciate your input. D**

**It all belongs to Disney. Or, if I've gotten ideas from readers or other fanfics, they belong to those who have inspired me/commented. The parts I got from other fics or the shows or reviewers are in _bold italics_, and I'll explain them at the end of the chapter.**

**This chapter may include details of Ingrid's attack, though I'm not sure how detailed it's gonna get as of yet. I'll let you know if it's gonna be too…graphic beforehand, kay? D**

**Spotty cow, this chapter's more angst-ish than I'd originally thought it would be, and more detailed (erm, less dialogue), too. O.o**

**Regarding one of last chapter's notes: Danny says in parts of the series that "I'm a seventh grader". My assumption was always that Fillmore and Ingrid were older than Danny was, if even just by a little bit. Plus, in The Nineteenth Hole's A Shallow Grave, when Fillmore's explaining what happened with the Mini-Golf Club, he says something about it happening when he was in sixth grade, and Ingrid tells him it "was a long time ago". Sounds to me like they're in at least seventh grade, if not older. If my assumptions are wrong, just use your imaginations. D**

**Not sure what X High looks like, so I just figured I'd use sort of the same idea as X Middle School—that the SP HQ is an office/classroom. And Ingrid and Fillmore can still walk to school, because I don't feel like giving every HS character a car. XD**

**Since I couldn't remember if anybody had ever mentioned the High School and its principal, I just decided that Folsom could change schools with them. XD**

**And from a few other fics, I've become convinced that Fillmore's eyes are brown, or at least a dark color, even though I've never seen the boy without his glasses. But I'll take the other authors' words for it. D**

**--**

**Shout-out time!**

**Queen S of Randomness 016: Just as awesome? Wow, thanks! I'm hoping you find this chapter almost as good as the last two. That would really make me happy. :D**

* * *

The warehouse was surprisingly bright, even for the afternoon. Fillmore had expected it to be darker, but was grateful he could save the batteries in his flashlight for another time. 

He and Danny were following a rather nervous-looking Ingrid through the warehouse where their fellow Safety Patroller had been…abused, hoping to find clues left behind by the perps. After all, they'd been dumb enough to let Ingrid see where they were going, so maybe they'd left clues as to exactly why they had messed up her life.

With each step they took, Ingrid grew more and more anxious, until they reached the spot where the crime had been committed and she broke down, shaking and wide-eyed, barely breathing as she turned around and ran into Fillmore, holding onto him for dear life and burying her face in his shirt.

"Ingrid?" Danny asked, his fear and concern obvious.

"I got her, O'Farrell. Get Vallejo on a talkie. Now," Fillmore insisted, his voice stern and filled with concern. "And put down the camera."

"But you said not to turn it off—"

"I know what I said, O'Farrell. Just put it down!"

Fillmore's tone made Danny almost drop the camera.

Fillmore ignored the clatter and Danny's frantic voice, pulling Ingrid away from his shirt to stare at her intently and insist, "Ingrid, you're okay. It's over. They're not here, and they're not gonna hurt you again."

Ingrid wouldn't listen to him, seemed to have fainted, and Fillmore snatched the talkie from Danny's grasp. "Vallejo, Tehama, _somebody_! It's Fillmore. Ingrid's having a panic attack. We're gonna head back to school. Somebody meet me there with the nurse ASAP."

Tossing the talkie back to Danny, he managed to keep his voice mostly level as he said, "We're bringing Ingrid back to school. Go get in the truck—I'll be there in a minute with Ingrid."

Danny hesitated only for a second, grabbing his camera and running back the way they'd come, apparently intent on not angering Fillmore further.

_Smart kid_, Fillmore decided, almost chuckling. _Any other time, this would be a laughing matter, but right now, I need to get Ingrid back to school._

He looked down at Ingrid, whose face was paler than usual, and decided the only way he was getting her out of the situation was if he forced her out, something that could take time. He knew he didn't have time to spare, so he did what he figured would save the most time: he picked Ingrid up and carried her out to the truck, where Danny was frantically opening the door.

After setting Ingrid in the truck, Fillmore jumped into the driver's seat and, as quickly as he could without being pulled over, drove back to the school, where Tehama and the school nurse were waiting with a wheelchair.

Before the truck had completely stopped, Danny jumped out and ran into the school, possibly to get rid of his sandwich in the bathroom.

As Fillmore picked her up, Ingrid's eyes snapped open, and she blinked at him. "Fillmore?"

"Yeah, Third, it's me," he smiled, fighting the sting of tears as he set her in the wheelchair. "You're okay now. I promise."

As the nurse wheeled her away, Fillmore started to follow, but Tehama held out her arm to stop him. He glared at her in disbelief, but she insisted, "Vallejo's orders. You're supposed to go back to HQ and have a chat with him."

As he stomped away, she added softly, "Don't kill anybody, please, Fillmore."

He mumbled something she didn't need to hear as he marched off, going straight to Vallejo's office and slamming the door shut behind him, **_glaring daggers_** at his friend, who held up his hands and declared, "Fillmore, she'll be okay. And she wouldn't want you to beat yourself up over what happened. Let it go."

"But I let it happen, Vallejo! I should've known she wasn't ready to go back there yet—it was too soon!" Fillmore exclaimed, his palms landing heavily on Vallejo's desk as **_the heart_** of the best team, the dynamic duo of X's Safety Patrol, tough old Cornelius Fillmore, broke down and let the tears fall, creating a puddle he was sure Vallejo would ignore for now.

"It's my fault," he repeated to himself, but jumped and went silent when Vallejo's fist landed under his nose.

"Fillmore," the older boy told him, "this was not your fault. And don't try and tell me it was, because if you keep trying to convince me, you'll be off the force."

"I should already be off the force, Vallejo," Fillmore answered through gritted teeth. "I shouldn't have been in the Safety Patrol in the first place."

Ignoring Vallejo's dropped jaw, Fillmore pulled off his sash, tossed it and his badge onto the desk, and headed out the door. His expression scared the rest of the Safety Patrollers out of his way as he left the office, and he sprinted to the nurse's office, standing outside for a moment before turning around and leaving the school building, not sure where he was headed as he left the parking lot.

After what seemed like hours, he ended up in the park, on the same bench on which he and Ingrid had discussed her rape just days before. Alarmed and almost disgusted, he stood up and headed another direction, this time landing on a swing, where he stayed for quite a while.

In fact, it was after school before he considered heading home, and was just about to stand up and do so **_when somebody sat down in the swing next to his_**.

He didn't have to look at the person to know who it was, and both remained silent for a few minutes before Ingrid broke the silence.

"Vallejo told me what happened, and Danny confirmed it by letting me watch the videotape. Thanks."

"For giving you a panic attack?" Fillmore asked, his tone harsh and pained.

"For knowing what to do when I did panic. For getting me out of there and back to school, where I could better deal with the attack," Ingrid replied, her voice soft as she stood in front of him. "For being a good friend."

"Some friend. I—"

"Cornelius."

Her no-nonsense, _**don't-cross-me** **voice**_ made him look up, and her narrowed gaze startled him, even though he'd seen the look many times before.

But this time, there was something more to the look, something he couldn't place.

Was it anger? Grief? Sympathy? He wasn't sure, not until Ingrid continued.

"From the moment I met you, I could see there was something special about you, something different. I always thought it was your dedication, your never-give-up attitude. But now I'm rethinking that theory. You're acting like a quitter, Cornelius, and that's not you. At least, it didn't used to be. I thought you'd changed, but now… Now I'm not so sure."

There were tears in her green eyes as Ingrid turned away and started to walk away, and Fillmore stood up.

"Ingrid. Hold up."

She was wiping at her eyes as she turned around to face him, and he stepped closer to her, continuing, "You're right. I am acting like a quitter. But that's how you were acting a few days ago, when you were sure you didn't wanna go after these guys."

"Yeah, but I changed my mind. Have you?"

He blinked at her sharp tone, frowning.

"I have to get home, and you should, too. Let me know when the real Cornelius Fillmore shows up again."

* * *

"Ingrid," her talkie crackled the next morning as she left the house, and the girl genius smiled as the rest of the comment came over the device, "it's Fillmore."

"Did the aliens return my partner?" she asked the talkie with a grin, the chuckle from the other end echoing in her ears as she rounded the corner to find Fillmore where she thought he'd be—exactly where she'd met him the morning before.

She put the talkie back in her backpack, and Fillmore pocketed his as she walked toward him.

With a smile, Fillmore confirmed, "I guess so."

The smile faded as he continued, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Fillmore, you're forgiven. For everything."

"Vallejo forgave me for exploding?" Fillmore's eyebrows rose, as if he'd expected to have detention for the rest of his school career.

"Of course," Ingrid replied, grinning as she rummaged through her bag.

Fillmore frowned, confused, and she explained with a smile, "Vallejo wanted you to have these back. Apparently** _you_**_ **forgot them again**_."

Fillmore chuckled again, the smile returning as he took the badge and his sash, holding them for a moment before slipping the sash over his head and putting the badge in his pocket with his talkie.

"Glad to have you back, partner."

"It's nice to be back, partner."

They shared a smile before Ingrid told him nervously, "Um, Folsom wants to see you in her office ASAP."

"Figures," he chuckled, looking at her. "You gonna go with me?"

Ingrid frowned, asking teasingly, "What, the great Cornelius Fillmore needs moral support?"

His expression made her take a few steps backward, and he stepped toward her with a grin, catching her hand and pulling her toward the school while informing her, "Of course not. I just figured you might wanna hear what Folsom has to say about me rescuing you."

"Rescuing me, huh?" Ingrid grinned. "I thought you caused the panic attack. Changing your tune?"

"You know it," he declared, pushing open the school doors and leading the way to the principal's office.

-F-

When they were excused from Principal Folsom's office, Ingrid and Fillmore headed back to Headquarters, where the rest of the Safety Patrol welcomed Fillmore back with thunderous applause and a lot of whistling, and Anza and Tehama grinned at Ingrid, who ignored them and headed for her desk.

As she scanned the pages of files left from yesterday, Ingrid's mind disappeared into the cases. As a result, she jumped in surprise when the papers were pulled out of her grasp and Fillmore's voice brought her back to reality.

"Ingrid, you've been staring at these files for hours. C'mon, let's go find you some food."

"Huh?" Ingrid blinked as Fillmore pulled her out of her chair and led her towards the door. "Did you eat anything this morning, Third?"

"I…I guess I must've forgotten," Ingrid said quietly, a hand to her head.

"You forgot? Ingrid—"

"Fillmore, I'm okay. I promise. I'll find something to eat."

"Ingrid, if I leave you to find your own food, you might 'forget' again." Fillmore was frowning. "I'm takin' you to find lunch, and you're gonna eat, even if I have to force-feed you."

Ingrid blinked, looking up at him in disbelief.

"C'mon, let's go find you some food," he repeated, his hands on her shoulders as he guided her toward the cafeteria.

She walked dazedly in the direction he was pointing her, finally snapping out of her fog when they reached the cafeteria and the smell of food reached her nose.

She protested when Fillmore made her sit down, but forgave him when he returned with a tray in each hand, eyeing the one in his right hand as he set them both on the table, smiling.

"Take your pick," he told her, and laughed when she grabbed the one from his right hand, the one with more egg rolls than anything.

"Figures," he grinned, sitting across from her and taking the other tray for himself. "Egg rolls get you every time, huh Third?"

She looked at him, eyes sparkling as she munched on an egg roll, not daring to open her mouth just yet. When she'd swallowed what was in her mouth she asked, "What? I like egg rolls. Is that a crime, Officer?"

"Nope," he grinned. "Not at all."

As Ingrid went back to her lunch, Fillmore worked on his own food, finishing a few minutes before Ingrid and using the time to look around the cafeteria for the perps she'd mentioned before, the guys who were responsible for her breakdown yesterday morning. He scanned the room, sighing in defeat when he didn't spot a single one, and looked back at Ingrid, who was just finishing her lunch and was looking at him curiously.

"Um, Ingrid?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together while a grin tugged at his lips.

"Something wrong, Fillmore?" Ingrid asked, curiosity and slight concern written on her forehead.

"You've got…" Not sure how to continue his sentence, Fillmore picked up a napkin and wiped the remains of an egg roll from her cheek.

"There. Much better," he declared, smiling as Ingrid's face turned pink and she said quietly, "Thanks. Wouldn't have wanted to walk around like that all day."

"I didn't figure you would," Fillmore laughed, his grin widening as he stood up and dumped the rest of their lunches into a garbage can and placed the trays on the ledge near the kitchen, Ingrid trailing behind him.

As they left the cafeteria, they could see Anza and Tehama, who were chatting at the other end of the hallway, Tehama gesturing and Anza looking as though he was about to laugh.

Ingrid nudged Fillmore when she noticed them, grinning at her partner when they got close enough to hear what the other two Patrollers were discussing.

"I'm just saying," Tehama was telling Anza, "that maybe if somebody gave him some pointers, O'Farrell would make somebody a great partner—or, you know, boyfriend. Depending on the person."

"Hey, Ingrid," Fillmore grinned as Anza and Tehama noticed the other duo.

Ingrid hid a grin as she asked, "Fillmore?"

"You think Danny's partner material?"

She blinked. "Thinking about trading me out?"

"'Course not. Just wondering. Who do you think he'd work best with, if he could have a partner?" Fillmore was grinning, and Anza and Tehama had stopped walking and were looking at them.

Ingrid placed a finger to her chin, thinking it over as Tehama sped toward her and pulled her toward the bathroom.

"Whoa, Tehama, what's wrong?" Ingrid asked, frowning. "Did Anza propose or something?"

Tehama's face went pink as she exclaimed, "No!"

"Alright, alright, calm down," Ingrid smiled. "I was joking. What's up?"

After taking a breath and perching on the counter, Tehama looked at her with a grin and a sparkle in her eyes as she asked, "So, what's up with you and Fillmore? And don't give me the 'we're just friends and partners' routine—anybody can see there's something more between you. Spill."

"Tehama, I think you've been eating too much chocolate. We're just friends. And we're a good team," Ingrid told her, turning and practically stalking into the hallway, where Fillmore left Anza's side and walked toward her, catching her hand again and quickly leading the way back to Headquarters, where both settled behind their desks and ignored the rest of the Safety Patrol until the end of the day, ending up as the last two people in the room.

Ingrid sighed, putting the files aside before standing up and almost running into Fillmore, who looked slightly annoyed but was smiling as he asked, "Tehama ask you about our relationship, too?"

"Yep."

"What'd you tell her?"

She looked up at him, frowning curiously as she asked, "Why? What did you tell Anza?"

"Just that we're good friends and we work well together. What'd you tell Tehama?"

They were out of HQ and halfway to the main entrance before Ingrid answered, "Basically the same thing—we're friends and a good team."

Fillmore nodded. "You know they're gonna keep pestering us about it."

"Of course. It's what they do."

"They're also Safety Patrollers, **_trained detectives_**, and apparently think they've got enough evidence to prove we're more than friends and partners."

As they headed up the sidewalk, Ingrid answered, "Well, we sort of are."

Fillmore stopped walking, tugging on the back of her jacket. "Hold up. What?"

She smiled. "You heard me. We're not just friends. We're _best_ friends and a really good team. The best, remember?"

With a grin, she kept walking, making it to the corner before Fillmore caught up with her. He didn't say anything, just smiled when she looked up at him, and they continued their walk in silence, parting ways with only a wave and a smile.

* * *

**It kinda bounced around randomly from topic to topic, but that's how I operate. :D**

**There WILL be more, don't worry. Honest to goodness, I will continue this story. It can't end without the perps being caught, can it? XP**

**Wow. About 2700 words this time. There's a pattern to my chapters here—somewhere around 2500 words each. Let's see how long the next chap end up. o.o**

**The Phrases**

**_glaring daggers:_** How Fillmore looks at Checkmatey in AlwaysWrite's Speaking Of Jealousy… and possibly a couple of other fics…

**_the heart:_** After rewatching Masterstroke of Malevolence, I realized that Fillmore's comment in the Anato-scape (chasing Leo he says, "You take brain; I'll take heart.") was so totally fitting—Ingrid's the brain, and he's the heart.

**_when somebody sat down in the swing next to his:_** Idea came from Abellen's On Bad Days She Reads Shakespeare—specifically, the middle of chapter two, when they discuss summer plans and such.

**_don't-cross-me voice:_** Ingrid's tone toward Checkmatey in AlwaysWrite's Speaking of Jealousy.

**_you forgot them again:_ **Reference to an episode (I think the one with Sonny Lombard; I forget the title) where Fillmore left Vallejo's office without his badge and then got it back again after solving the case.

**_trained detectives:_ **Reference to Ingrid's comment in the episode with Penny Madrid, toward the end, when Fillmore's leaving the school to get ready for dinner with Penny


	4. Caring

**Fourth chapter.**

**Still stuck on titles. Any ideas? Let me know!**

**Might get a little detailed and/or graphic later on, but I'll let you know beforehand.**

**Okay, so, it's winter. December sometime. Decided to change seasons to sort of incorporate an idea from AlwaysWrite's All I Want For Christmas. **

**Yes, Ingrid was wearing shorts in the last chapter, but you know, she wears that dress all the time. If you're really bothered by the shorts, pretend they were pants. D**

**I don't know much about panic attacks, but I figured that fit best with what was going on with Ingrid in the last chappy.**

**Sorry if the chapters seem kinda random in what happens, but that's me for you. :D**

**Oh, and Peters, the German kid? He doesn't sound German, does he? I started thinking about that and went, "Okay, so he's from Germany, but he was adopted by somebody from America!" :D **

**--**

**Shout-out time!**

**Queen S of Randomness 016: Props? OMW, I GET PROPS:D**

**-cough- I'm good now. Thanks for reviewing. Hopefully chapter four doesn't disappoint you…**

* * *

The sudden warmth and pressure on his shoulder had Fillmore jolting fully awake to find his mom standing by his bed, looking at him with a knowing smile.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

He knew she was still smiling even without looking up, but did so anyway, sighing, "I-it's about Ingrid."

Joelle's smile widened, and Fillmore continued, "I can't stop thinking about her panic attack and…and…"

The tears returned, and Joelle slid his glasses off, pulling him into a hug until the water had been turned off and only trickles remained.

He looked up at her, wiping at the last of his tears as he stammered, "I brought her there, Mom. I brought her back there, and she had a panic attack and couldn't breathe. She was shaking. She was shaking and not breathing and…I was so scared. I thought she was gonna die, and I blamed myself for it."

"It wasn't your fault, Cornelius. You were trying to help, being a good friend. You can't get in trouble for that."

Fillmore blinked. "I know. That's what everybody keeps telling me. But what do I do, Mom? I wanna help, but I don't want anybody getting hurt even more, especially not Ingrid."

His mom's smile was gentle as she told him softly, "I know, Ingrid's your friend and partner, right?"

He frowned, as if he couldn't believe she'd forgotten. "Right."

"And you know her pretty well, yes?"

"_Very_ well," Fillmore corrected, eyebrows rising.

"Alright, very well," Joelle agreed with a laugh, continuing, "So you'd probably know if something was bothering her."

"Of course."

"Or if she was perfectly fine, correct?"

"Yeah. What's your point?"

"What do you see in her posture and everything else about her? What does it tell you about Ingrid and how she's getting along?"

She patted his back, smiling and heading for the door, turning around to say, "You're a Safety Patroller. You know about this sort of thing, and you know your partner. You can figure it out. In fact, you probably already have."

She smiled, adding, "If you don't hurry up, you're going to be late for your weekday morning constitutional with Ingrid. Most girls don't like to be kept waiting."

"Mom, this is Ingrid we're talking about. Ingrid is _not_ 'most girls'."

His mother ignored him, closing the door behind her and leaving him to think over the conversation.

-F-

The birds were chirping, but Fillmore was too busy focusing on his mom's comments to pay attention to them.

He thought it over, knowing Joelle was right.

He knew Ingrid, could read her pretty well, and he _definitely_ knew that she was nothing like 'most girls.'

_She's smart, although everybody knows that. She's good at undercover assignments, she's funny, she's cute—whoa. Did I just think what I think I thought? What's with me? Ingrid's my best friend, nothing more,_ he told himself, setting his jaw before spotting Ingrid a little way up the street, juggling her backpack and a few books.

Frowning, he picked up his pace and was standing next to her just seconds later, asking, "Need some help, Third?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, just plucked her things out of her hands, put the books in the backpack, and slung the bag over his shoulder.

Ingrid gaped at him. "Uh, what are you doing?"

He tilted his head. "What's it look like? I'm carrying your stuff."

"Why, exactly?" Ingrid asked, eyes narrowed.

"Because you've got something on your mind and juggling all your stuff wasn't gonna help that fact. What's up?"

"It's nothing," she replied quickly—too quickly for his liking—and kept heading up the street.

He followed her, insisting, "Ingrid, I know you. Something's bugging you, and I'd like to know what it is."

"How come?"

"Ingrid," he frowned, halting their walk. "I'm your friend. If something's wrong, I wanna help."

His expression and tone softened as he asked, "Please?"

Ingrid sighed. "Can we keep walking? We're gonna be late."

"We can skip for all I care, so long as you share," Fillmore laughed, smiling down at her as they continued toward the school.

"I'm not really one for skipping, Fillmore," Ingrid grinned up at him, eyes sparkling once again.

"Yeah, I know. You gonna share now?"

Ingrid looked away, her face strangely unreadable.

Fillmore's frown returned as they kept walking in silence, trying to decipher the meaning of Ingrid's expression.

It was only after they'd reached HQ, were the only two in the room, and were heading for their desks before Ingrid finally spoke again.

"I've been thinking about what Tehama told me yesterday."

He looked over at her. "Oh?"

"Yeah. She said that anybody can see there's something more between us than just friendship."

"That's kind of what Anza told me, too. Of course, he used male jargon, but you know. Same basic idea." Fillmore grinned, but it faded when Ingrid smiled only weakly.

He moved in front of her, and when she didn't look up, he cupped a hand under her chin and gently forced her to look at him.

"Ingrid, are you saying you…" he swallowed nervously, "you've started thinking of us as more than friends?"

Another weak, nervous smile as Ingrid's face turned pink. "Kind of bad timing, huh?"

"No, I'd say it's perfect timing. Past time, even."

Fillmore's head snapped to his left and he found Anza, Tehama, and Vallejo standing in the doorway, grins on their faces as Anza laughed, "Tehama, looks like you owe me a Hershey bar."

"Hold on, _Joseph_," Tehama glared. "We don't know for sure that they're…a couple…"

"Well they sure seem like it to me, _Karen_," Anza laughed in return. "Heck, somebody asked me two years ago if they were dating."

Fillmore's jaw dropped, his face heating up as he looked at Ingrid, the pink turning to red as she looked up at him.

Before anyone could say anything more, Danny stumbled into the office, almost running into the old tripod, which had been decorated for the Christmas season with a strand of blinking red and green lights. When he finally straightened himself out, he gaped at the scene in front of him, exclaiming, "Holy fish sticks! Do you see what I see?"

"Yeah, O'Farrell, we see it."

"Have they kissed yet? Because I wanna get it on tape!" Danny declared, grabbing his video camera.

"Kissed? O'Farrell, they've barely admitted to liking each other. What do you need to get on tape? Did you plan this or something?" Vallejo asked, confused, his hand going to his head as usual.

Danny stared at him. "Don't you see where they're standing?" he asked, pointing.

"Next to their desks…?" Anza tried, but Danny shut them all up with, "No! Well, yes, but look up!"

They did as he said, looking back at Fillmore and Ingrid with smiles on their faces.

"What're you waiting for, Fillmore" Anza asked him with a sly grin, and Fillmore blinked. "Huh?"

Vallejo smacked himself in the forehead. "He didn't look up."

"Neither did Ingrid, from the looks of it," Tehama added.

Fillmore looked at Ingrid, who was looking at the others. Sure enough, she seemed lost, too, and he looked up to find mistletoe right above them.

His eyes widened and he looked back at his friends, who looked as though they were on the brink of laughter.

_Go ahead,_ he saw Anza's lips move. _You know you want to._

He looked back to Ingrid, who was still staring at O'Farrell as if in a trance.

Taking a breath, Fillmore noticed his hand was still under Ingrid's chin. His face grew warmer, but he ignored that fact and pulled Ingrid's face—and her lost gaze—toward his own.

Before he knew it, he'd pressed his lips to his partner's, and her eyes widened for a moment before the corners of her mouth turned upward as he pulled back, smiling nervously at her.

The rest of the Safety Patrol burst into applause, Anza adding a whistle, and Tehama a squeal, before Ingrid's eyes narrowed mischievously and she grinned at him in the same manner.

"Ingrid?" he asked her confusedly, frowning.

He didn't have time to say more; Ingrid's lips brushed his cheek, and he blinked.

"Cat got your tongue, Fillmore?" Anza asked, walking over to wink at him as Tehama flew out of the room with Ingrid in tow.

Fillmore didn't respond, just placed his hand on his cheek in surprise.

After a few minutes of silence, Vallejo declared, "Fillmore, maybe you oughta go home for a while."

"What? Vallejo, man, you—"

"Save it, Fillmore. It's obvious you're gonna be distracted."

"No I won't. I'll be perfectly fine. Come on, Vallejo, you know me. When have I ever been too distracted to focus on Safety Patrol stuff?"

Vallejo sighed. "Alright, since you're not gonna stop fighting me about it, and since you'd kill me if I made you go home, you can stay."

Fillmore smiled, and Vallejo warned, "But if you get too distracted for even one—"

"I won't, Vallejo. Don't worry," Fillmore interrupted, going to his desk and pulling a file from the small stack. Looking up, he asked, "Oh, could we get somebody to go look through the warehouse again? These idiots might've left clues to help us get positive IDs."

"Didn't Ingrid already tell you who they were?" Anza asked, an eyebrow raised.

"A couple of 'em, but she said there might've been one or two more she didn't recognize."

* * *

"Tehama, what is so urgent? And why do you keep dragging me into the _bathroom_, of all places?"

Karen ignored the question, demanding, "Do you realize what just happened back there?"

"Uh, Fillmore and I got stuck under the mistletoe and he kissed me?" Ingrid replied, her expression showing her thought: _Duh,_ o_bvious?_

Tehama shook her head exasperatedly, exclaiming, "No, no, no!" Seeing Ingrid's raised eyebrows, she admitted, "Okay, yes, he kissed you. But you were smiling and you kissed him back. I'll bet you a Hershey bar he's gonna be totally antsy around you from now on."

"You mean the same Hershey bar you apparently lost to Anza a minute ago?" Ingrid asked, giving Tehama a pointed look.

Tehama's shoulders dropped, but she laughed, "Actually, he'll give it back. He knows how much I love chocolate and feels bad if he takes it away from me."

"Okay, well, can we go back to HQ now? I'd like to get back to those files…"

"Ingrid!" Karen cried, her hands on Ingrid's shoulders. "You just kissed your best friend. Everybody in the building knows you've liked each other since middle school. Does this mean nothing to you?"

"Actually, no. It doesn't mean much. It's not that big a deal, Karen," Ingrid replied, turning around to leave the bathroom.

Karen groaned and followed her, muttering, "You're lying, Third. I can tell you are. You're totally overjoyed on the inside, you're just too…afraid to admit it to the world. Probably because of the rape, but come on! I thought you'd moved on, Ingrid."

Ingrid bristled, turning around so fast the world spun in front of her for a moment.

"Tehama," she began sharply, but at Karen's surprised look, stopped.

Both girls were silent as they returned to HQ and their desks, ignoring looks from fellow students.

A few moments later, Anza and Tehama left the room, and everyone headed to classes, muttering about end-of-term tests and projects coming up soon.

* * *

At the end of the day, having somehow ignored Fillmore and the rest of the Safety Patrol during classes and lunch, Ingrid practically ran out of X High, only stopping when a hand tugged at her jacket, pulling her backward.

She almost landed on her butt, but the person who'd caused her fall caught her before she ended up with wet jeans, and she found herself staring up at Fillmore.

_Figures,_ she decided. _I did sort of leave without waiting for him… Not to mention I ignored him all day…_

Blinking as her partner helped her stand back up, she heard him say, "Tehama mentioned that you blew up on her before you two came back to HQ. Wanna tell me what happened?"

It wasn't a suggestion, Ingrid knew, it was a command. One she didn't particularly feel like complying with, but she knew Fillmore would follow her home and probably sit on the front porch all night until she talked, so she sighed and explained, "Tehama was asking me why I wasn't jumping for joy about…what happened in HQ, and I told her it wasn't a big deal. She told me she could tell I was lying and…"

Fillmore's eyebrows rose, and he prodded, "And what?"

Ingrid took a breath before looking up at him, continuing, "She said I was too afraid to admit that I was happy and she figured it was because of…because I was…you know…"

She blinked back tears as he looked down at her, his expression soft as he nodded.

"She…she told me she thought I'd moved on, and I snapped. I don't know why, but I got so mad and…I should have apologized, only I didn't."

Suddenly, Ingrid found herself wrapped in a hug, Fillmore's voice informing her, "I told Tehama you were probably sorry, just didn't feel like talking to anybody. She's okay. She's always got a chocolate bar around someplace, you know."

They both laughed, he let go of her, and they continued walking until they reached her street and Fillmore broke the silence with, "We think we know who the guys were for sure, Ingrid."

She stopped walking and stared at him. "How?"

"Vallejo sent a couple guys to the warehouse to look for evidence."

They continued walking in silence until they'd reached the walkway to Ingrid's house and she paused, looking up at him.

"Fillmore?"

"Third?" he grinned, leaning gently against the mailbox.

"Thanks."

He frowned. "What for, exactly?"

"For…being you. My partner. My friend. My best friend." She hesitated before adding, "Or…maybe something more…"

Fillmore chuckled. "Not exactly the best timing, was it?"

Ingrid shook her head. "Actually, I think it's perfect timing."

The frown returned, and she smiled. _He has no idea how adorable that frown makes him…_

"Fillmore, you said it yourself: I went through hell. If you were in my situation, wouldn't you want a friend to lean on? To get you through the ordeal?"

He blinked at her, not responding.

"Cornelius, are you even paying attention to the words I'm saying?" Ingrid asked, peering at her partner through narrowed eyes.

"Of course I am. I'm just not sure what to say," Fillmore answered, his expression backing the statement up.

"Well, do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "Yeah, I think I do."

"And you agree with me? You'd want a good friend to help you deal?"

"Yeah. I would."

With a smile, Ingrid leaned closer to her partner, who frowned—until she kissed his cheek.

As she pulled away, Ingrid whispered, "Thanks for helping me deal, partner."

* * *

**There ya go. Just over 2500 words.**

**Okay, if the end is confusing you, don't worry. I'm weird that way. :D**

**Basically, the two of them kissing seemed like good timing because Ingrid needs to learn to trust guys again. She already trusted Fillmore, but…erm…needed to prove it to herself? I'm honestly not entirely sure what my reasoning was, but it was something about trust and…yeah. Eh heh. I confused myself. –cough- o.o;;;**

**ANYway. That's chapter four.**

**A bunch of the stuff came from other Fillmore fics, and the part about Fillmore hanging out on Ingrid's front porch until she talked came from a Psych fic. But mainly it's ideas from other Fillmore fics (mostly AlwaysWrite and Abellen).**

**About Tehama's obsession with the bathroom…Yeah, that's complete randomness from my subconscious. A friend and I have a joke about girls having bathroom parties and talking about guys, so…that's probably what that is.**

**And in the last chapter, when Tehama and Anza "interrogate" Ingrid and Fillmore? Tehama's prolly a bit OOC in this fic, but whatever. She wants to talk to Ingrid about Fillmore for some random reason. Maybe she and Anza were discussing that before O'Farrell and when they saw Fillmore and Ingrid they decided to chat with them?**

**Aaaand I have no clue why I don't add anything about classes. Maybe I'm thinking in French or something, where they have random amounts of time with and without classes. I dunno.**


	5. Confrontations

**Fifth chapter!**

**Fillmore and Ingrid are seventh graders in the series (Wikipedia info. :D). So, pretend Danny is a couple months younger. O.o;;**

**Erm, this chapter starts out almost kinda the same as chapter four. Please don't shoot me. o.o;;**

**I'm not sure how realistic it is to go from what happened in the last chapter to what happens in this chapter, but this is where my creativity is leading me, so it's what you're gonna get.**

**Also, abortion is mentioned. I'm not exactly trying to force my beliefs on anybody; it just goes along with the topic of rape and pregnancy. Sort of.**

**And I'm RILLY sorry it took me so long to update, but I've got school and church, not to mention Writer's Block, so I've been having issues coming up with more for the story.**

**And pretend it was only four guys, not five, because I can't think of another guy.**

**Oh, and I've decided to sort of connect it to Becoming Somebody and Sunday Dinner. Just because I'm weird that way.**

**Beware of kissing. Like, super-detailed scene. If you don't want to read it (it's one paragraph), there are letters (IF) telling you where it is, so you can skip the paragraph if you want.**

**--**

**Shout-out time!**

**Queen S of Randomness 016: Yay, props again. Thanks for being such a constant reviewer, by the way.**

**LangeNoir: Fluffiness is good, isn't it:D I wasn't sure how realistic the mistletoe thing was with Ingrid's situation, but you liked it, and I can't think of anything else to put in that half of the story, so it'll stay that way. o.o;;;;**

**Small child? My goodness, the day I read your review, I'd been babysitting the day before and I was gonna be babysitting soon after reading the review. Babysitting week. O.o**

**xXsomeone.will.bleedXx: Yay, you liked it! Writer's Block stinks. O.o; And I know I already told you this, but yes, I'm a Christian, too. :D**

* * *

The nightmare had returned the past couple of nights, and Ingrid knew her face showed her lack of sleep, but she ignored Ariella's concerned look and headed out the front door, grabbing a granola bar on the way. 

She'd walked about a block when a familiar, haunting voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Hey, sweet thang," it drawled, and Ingrid turned around slowly, fear creeping into her veins when she saw who was standing a few feet behind her.

"Leave me alone, _Warren_," she told him, her voice shaking as he stepped closer to her, grinning evilly.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be hatin'," the rapping chess star whined. "I thought we were tight." His hand moved toward her shoulders and Ingrid backed away from him, her eyes widening as she bumped into another figure who asked, "Going somewhere, Miss Third?"

She jumped away from Parnassas, demanding shakily, "Can't you guys just go away? Don't you have somebody else to torture?"

A cold chuckle sliced through the morning air, and Ingrid almost shrieked when she was grabbed from behind and yet another voice declared, "Nope. Haven't you figured it out yet, Officer? You're our favorite Safety Patroller."

Ingrid shuddered at the statement, and Sonny continued, "How's that partner of yours doing these days? Considering rejoining the fun of the old days?"

"Hardly," Fillmore's voice retorted before Ingrid was ejected from Sonny's grip and landed with a slight thud on the sidewalk.

When she'd managed to stand up again, shaky as she was, Fillmore had moved in front of her and was glaring at Sonny, Checkmatey, and Parnassas, who all scowled and ran the other way.

Fillmore was looking at her in concern, his hands on her shoulders as he asked if she was alright.

Dazedly, she nodded, blinking up at him as he sighed in relief, turning her back towards the Third residence.

For a moment, she resisted, but he insisted, "I think Ariella should know about this."

Ingrid sighed shakily, her shoulders drooping as she let him lead her home, where Ariella flung the door open with a frown.

* * *

"What's the matter? What happened?" 

As Ingrid calmly—which was a surprise—walked toward the kitchen, Fillmore looked at Ariella.

"The jerks who…who raped Ingrid found her about a block from here."

The color drained from Ariella's face, and he continued, "They just scared her, and barely touched her, but she was still shaking. They're still affecting her, and I really think we need to tell somebody besides your dad, like the police. Ingrid said she didn't want you to tell anybody before, but if these jerks are gonna keep harassing her, we have to."

Ariella nodded. "Definitely. But that might mean, you know, a protective detail or moving or something, and Ingrid definitely doesn't need that."

There was worry in Ariella's eyes as she looked at him, and Fillmore sighed. "Moving is out of the question—you've had enough of starting over. We know exactly who these guys are and what they look like, so we can give the police descriptions and have them arrested, can't we?"

The color returned to Ariella's face as the older girl asked, "Who are they, exactly? Ingrid never gave us names, just said they were a bunch of guys…"

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes." Ariella's gaze was intent, ye at the same time nervous, and Fillmore sighed. "They're guys from school who we've busted in the past—Check Matey, Parnassas, Sonny…" He frowned. "Where was Vud?"

It was Ariella's turn to frown as she asked, "Vud? The kid with the accent who turned himself in when it was really Parnassas framing Ingrid?"

"Yeah, him. I didn't see him. As far as I know he hasn't left Parnassas's side since Middle School, but he wasn't with them this morning."

"Maybe he decided to change his ways," Ingrid suggested from the kitchen, leaning against the door jamb with a slightly shaking glass of water in her hand. "After all, he did help me get out of that maze of tires. And he wasn't in the warehouse."

"I guess he could've…"

"You don't sound too sure of that, Fillmore. That's ironic."

Fillmore frowned as he looked at Ingrid, whose pointed green gaze was focused on him as she asked, "You changed, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah…"

"And you helped me change."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know. You're right. When aren't you?"

Ingrid blinked, the glass slipping in her hand.

Fillmore shook his head. "Sorry. Forget I said that."

He stepped closer to Ingrid, taking the glass from her. "You're still shaking. Water was smart, but you're gonna drop your glass."

Ingrid's gaze narrowed as she surrendered the glass, but before she could say anything, Ariella declared, "You two should probably head to school before you're late. I could drive you if you don't want to walk."

Fillmore barely glanced at Ingrid before replying, "I think a ride is a good idea."

Ariella nodded, turning to Ingrid. "I'll call—"

"Don't worry about the police, Ari; I've got it covered," Mr. Third interrupted from the stairway. "A coworker of mine is the chief's brother. I'll let him know what's going on and ask him to talk to his brother about it."

Relief flooded Ariella's face as she gave her father a hug. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem," Mr. Third smiled sadly. "I'll be glad to get this over with. Now go on. Get to school before you're late for class."

-F-

As they entered HQ, Fillmore ignored the looks from the others and headed straight for Vallejo's office.

The Junior Commissioner looked up as his door clicked shut, but he'd barely opened his mouth before Fillmore declared, "Ingrid was harassed this morning."

Vallejo blinked at him. "By…?"

"By the same guys who raped her. Her dad's talking to a guy about it, so hopefully they're off the street soon. Just thought I'd let you know in case Ingrid leaves for a while."

As he left the room, Vallejo stopped him momentarily with, "Fillmore. Good job."

Fillmore smiled as he left the office, but it faded when he noticed the way his partner was standing. It seemed as though Tehama's desk was the only thing supporting her, and for the first time he noticed the dark circles around her eyes, and the way her hand rested on her stomach, almost as if she was sick.

Concern filled his veins as he walked over to her, and he tipped her head upward with his finger.

"Ingrid, are you okay?"

The sorrow he saw in her green eyes startled him, and he frowned when Ingrid replied shakily, "Well, sort of. Yes and no."

She smiled, though he knew it was forced, and he asked, "What's the matter?"

Her eyes darted away for a moment before she responded quietly, "Fillmore…I think…well, I think I should tell you someplace less crowded."

She took his arm, pulling him out the door into the now-deserted hallway, where she halted in front of her locker.

Fillmore scanned her face, tried unsuccessfully to interpret her facial expression and what it might indicate before she continued, "I think…I'm…pregnant."

She wasn't looking at him, so Fillmore took her face in his hands and turned her head toward him, pushing his nerves aside as he said, "Ingrid, I…I don't know what to say…"

Ingrid's gaze dropped, and Fillmore tipped her head upward, continuing, "Except that I'll be right here next to you no matter what."

Ingrid looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears as she whispered, "You promise?"

"Trust me?" Fillmore asked with a smile.

Ingrid's laugh was quiet, but it was a laugh.

"Yeah, I trust you."

"Good," Fillmore grinned, closing the gap between their faces and coming almost nose-to-nose with his friend, his voice barely above a whisper as he added, "because you're stuck with me."

"I think I can handle that," Ingrid smiled. "After all, I've dealt with worse."

"And you're good with challenges," Fillmore added with a smile, but it faded again as he asked, "What're you gonna…what're you gonna do with the baby?"

He could tell that Ingrid would have backed away from him had her back not been against her locker, and her eyes flashed as she declared, "If you're suggesting abortion, you don't know me."

"It was a legitimate question, Third," Vallejo's voice stated, and both their heads turned back toward HQ, where Vallejo, Tehama, Anza and O'Farrell were watching them.

"Whatever happened to privacy?" Fillmore asked, eyebrows raised.

"Fillmore, you're in a hallway," Vallejo said, a look of disbelief on his face, his voice showing his annoyance.

"Yeah, but you don't have to stand and eavesdrop."

"But it's fun!" Tehama grinned.

* * *

As Fillmore glared at Karen, Ingrid warned, "Cornelius. Ignore them for now. I… I'm not killing my baby. I wouldn't be able to get over the emotional pain of knowing I'd murdered a child before their life had even started." 

"You sound really sure about that, like you've given it a lot of thought…" Fillmore mused, looking at her.

"Lately, I've been having this dream—or nightmare, really," Ingrid began slowly, knowing all eyes were on her. "It starts out at the warehouse, with those four idiots raping me, and it's like I've reliving it. I wake up sweating and crying and when I fall back to sleep, I dream about a baby, a beautiful little girl with dark hair and eyes. I dream she's only a few days old and she's taken away from me. Just this morning I woke up dreaming that I had an abortion, and it killed me. I can't go through that for real. I'm keeping my baby."

Fillmore blinked, a look of horror on his face. "Dark eyes? You mean…"

Ingrid nodded sadly. "Yes, Fillmore. Sonny was the only one who…"correctly" raped me."

Fillmore's head dropped, and Ingrid whispered, "I'm sorry."

"No," Fillmore told her, his eyes filled with rage as he looked at her. "Sonny's the one who should be sorry. Him and those other jerks."

"Fillmore, you said Ingrid's dad was taking care of it. Let him and the police handle Sonny and the others."

"Vallejo," Fillmore growled, "Ingrid's my friend. Sonny messed up her life. I want him to see what he did to her. If I have to beat an apology out of him, I will."

Ingrid's jaw dropped, and she grabbed her partner's chin, pulling his face toward hers. Her voice was shaky yet filled with her own anger as she said, "Cornelius, you will not beat anyone up. You will calm down or you'll be of no help to anyone. Fighting fire with fire only creates a bigger fire."

Fillmore's expression softened, and his gaze dropped.

Now it was Ingrid's turn to tip Fillmore's head upward as she asked softly, "Okay?"

Fillmore nodded, looking as though he didn't trust himself to speak, and Ingrid hugged him, her cheek resting on his chest as she declared, "Good. 'Cause you're stuck with me."

There was whistling, clapping, and cheering from their classmates, and Ingrid pulled away, blushing profusely. She didn't get far before Fillmore grinned, "Hey, you're not getting away that easily, Third."

IFIFIFIF

The confusion Ingrid felt was quickly replaced with glee and pleasure as Fillmore's hand moved to her back, pulling her toward him again. Her knees went weak and Fillmore's grip tightened to keep her upright as he kissed her, much longer and more meaningfully than he had when they'd been caught under the mistletoe. Ingrid's eyes fluttered closed and she could feel her face heating up even more, but she didn't care. After all, she was kissing her best friend, who was now, she was sure, something more.

IFIFIFIF

The tingle in her spine slowly disappeared as Fillmore's lips left hers and he leaned his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath, a grin lighting up his face.

The familiar sound of a throat being cleared made Ingrid jump, and she turned to her left as Principal Folsom declared, "As…cute as it is, Public Display of Affection are not allowed in my school."

"Sorry, Principal Folsom," Fillmore replied, his grin never wavering.

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again," Folsom said, casting the by-standers a glance as well.

"Yes, Principal Folsom," Vallejo agreed as the principal left, adding under his breath, "But I'm not makin' any promises."

Ingrid looked at the older student, confused. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fillmore's gaze switch too, and he asked, "Are you saying you…don't mind…"

"Yes, Fillmore, I meant what you're thinking. Please don't hug me. And try not to go overboard with your girlfriend. And definitely don't let Folsom see you smooching—we'd probably all be off the Force."

Fillmore was grinning. "Don't worry, Vallejo. We'll be good. Won't we, Ingrid?"

He winked at her, and Ingrid felt the blood rush to her face as she responded, "Yep. No need to worry about us, Vallejo."

Vallejo rolled his eyes as he headed back into HQ. "Yeah, right."

Fillmore's grin widened, and he ruffled Ingrid's hair, stating, "Well, we'd better head to classes, huh?"

Ingrid rolled her eyes and started to walk away, but Fillmore spun her backwards, asking, "What, not good bye kiss?"

"You've reached your quota for today," Ingrid replied, pushing away from him.

Fillmore frowned, teasing, "Quota? You mean there's a limit?"

"Yes, and you've reached yours," Ingrid repeated.

Fillmore's frown intensified as he grinned at her, and Ingrid sighed, "Fine." She tapped his nose. "One more. But only one. Just this once. And only because you're cute."

Fillmore grinned, hooked a finger under her chin, and kissed her again before she looked up and asked, "May I go to class now?"

Fillmore tilted his head and looked up. "Mmmm…"

Ingrid stared at him, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Alright," he chuckled, tweaking her nose. "But only 'cause you're cute."

* * *

**There ya have it. Chapter five. Ended up being 2300 words. My pattern returns. xD**

**Okay, it's maybe a little random in the events and stuff, but that's how my brain works, remember:D**

**You might recognize some of the comments in this chapter from my other Fillmore fics. I know I said they're not connected, but I decided that a few of them sort of are. O.o;;**


	6. Cuteness

**Here y'are. Chapter six.**

**There'll prolly be just one or two chapters after this one…**

**--**

**Shout-out time!**

**Queen S of Randomness 016: Yay, more props. You're awesome. Thanks again for being a constant reviewer.**

**Lange-Noir: I guess that was a good line. Glad you liked and reviewed. :D**

**Narya100: Thanks for reviewing. Nice to see a fic I hadn't originally planned on making "Christian" ended up that way and was heart lifting. D**

* * *

The first thing Fillmore heard as he stepped into his living room was his father's voice as Karim asked, "What happened?" 

"Huh?"

Karim smiled. "Come sit."

When Fillmore was sitting next to him, Karim continued, "You look pretty happy. What's up?"

Fillmore looked at the carpet, and his father laughed. "Oh, I see. Something with a girl, eh? I'll bet it was Ingrid, seeing as she's the only thing you've been talking about the past few weeks. So didja kiss 'er?"

"Dad!" Fillmore groaned, staring at his father, whose grin widened. "I knew it. I've always known you two would end up together."

His glee was obvious as he grinned mischievously, asking, "Did she faint or completely melt or—"

"Karim, give the boy some room, for goodness sake," Joelle laughed from the doorway, walking over to join them on the couch.

"It's a perfectly acceptable question," Karim replied, grinning. "It's what my father asked me after our first date. The Fillmore men just have that affect on women."

Karim moved toward Joelle, a grin on his face, and Fillmore blurted. "Ingrid's pregnant. She says Sonny's the father."

Karim looked concerned. "Sonny Lombard? The troublemaker you used to be friends with?"

"Yeah. He's probably in jail by now—Mr. Third was gonna take care of it."

"Is Ingrid…keeping the baby?" Joelle asked slowly.

"Yes. And I want to help her take care of it."

His mom stood up and hugged him, saying, "Oh, Cornelius. That's sweet, but are you sure Ingrid will let you help raise a child your old friend fathered?"

"Ma," he groaned, "I'm helping her even if she doesn't want it. She's my friend, and I promised her I'd be there for her no matter what."

* * *

"You're glowing," Ariella smiled as Ingrid passed her in the kitchen. "Did something good happen at school?"

Ingrid ignored the question, but her sister followed her to the den, asking, "Is it something with Fillmore?"

Try as she might to hide her blush, it was useless, and Ariella squealed, "Oh, I knew it! Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him?"

Ingrid blinked, and something in her brain clicked. With a sigh, she sank into a chair and replied, "Why do I feel like dancing?"

Shaking her head, Ingrid continued, "Oh, whatever. Yes, he kissed me. And it was…magical, to be cheesy about it. I mean, he kissed me a couple days ago when we got stuck under mistletoe, but today…it doesn't compare."

Ariella grinned. "Go on."

"Today, the kiss was so much better. It was longer, for one thing. And…I don't know. I got lost today, in the wonder of it all. I can't even describe it. Oh, and Vallejo doesn't care anymore and Fillmore called me cute and…he almost didn't let me go to class. He told me the only reason was because I'm cute. How adorable is that?"

Ariella just hugged her, her eyes sparkling as she said, "You know what? I think you're in love."

Ingrid's gaze dropped. "But…I'm pregnant, Ari."

Ariella's face fell, then brightened. "I'm gonna be an aunt!"

Ingrid shook her head. "Ari, doesn't that bother you? Becoming an aunt before your little sister?"

"Nope. I've had time to think today, and I've decided that as long as you're not in the hospital or dead because of the rape, then life's good. And now," Ari told her, smiling and touching Ingrid's cheek, "you've got Fillmore to focus on."

Ingrid blushed as she grinned. "I guess you're right. I should be okay with it, and I will be soon, I suppose."

The phone rang, and Ingrid lunged for it.

Ariella grinned. "Anxious to hear from Fillmore, are you?"

"No," Ingrid lied, her blush giving her away. "It might be Dad with good news."

She turned her attention to the phone as Ariella rolled her eyes and left the room.

"Hello?"

"Hey there, Genius," Fillmore's voice greeted her, and she smiled. "What's up, Officer?"

"A guy can't just call his girlfriend for no reason?"

Ingrid scooted further back into her recliner, pulling her knees up next to her as she replied, "Fillmore, there's always a reason for things."

Fillmore laughed. "I guess I forgot. You're right."

"So what's your reason?" Ingrid asked, waving to her father as he passed the doorway.

"Just wanted to see how you're feeling," he replied, but Ingrid frowned, sensing something was off.

"I'm fine. Thanks for checking. But that's not all, I can tell. What else is on your mind?"

"Nothing. Just you."

She heard the change in his voice, could imagine him frowning, and smiled at the image before saying, "Right. I know you, Fillmore. I can tell that something's bugging you, and I'm not giving up 'til I know what it is. Spill."

"Dawg, Ingrid. If I didn't know you as well as I do, I'd blame it on the hormones."

Ingrid blinked. "Cute, Cornelius, but not what I wanted to hear."

"Right. Well, my parents know. Have you told your dad and Ariella?"

"I told Ari—she guessed about the kissing thing and then got all happy when she found she's gonna be an aunt. My dad got home a few minutes ago, and Ari's probably telling him right now."

She heard the grin as Fillmore laughed, "My dad asked me…he asked me if you fainted when I kissed you. Apparently, it's a Fillmore-guy-thing."

Ingrid laughed, too. "Wow. Did you tell him what happened?"

"No. My mom interrupted."

She laughed again, then noticed her father a few feet away, smiling.

"Uh, I guess I better go—my dad's beaming at me."

"Beaming?"

"Yeah. He looks pretty happy. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Seeya, Genius."

Putting the phone back, Ingrid looked at her father. "Something wrong, Dad?"

"Wrong? Oh, no," Mr. Third smiled. "I hear you had an interesting day."

"Uh…yeah."

Mr. Third leaned against the couch, asking, "Wanna talk about it?"

"Uh…well, I'm…pregnant," Ingrid said slowly, wincing as she waited for his response. To her surprise, he smiled. "That's what I thought. And did something else happen? Something with a boy, perhaps?"

His eyes sparkled, and Ingrid rolled her eyes despite her blush, replying, "Ari already told you."

"Yes, but I'd like to hear it from you," her father replied with a smile.

Ingrid's blush deepened and her speech faltered as she answered, "Alright…uh…Fillmore…well, he…" She swallowed, whispering, "He kissed me."

Mr. Third grinned, kissing the top of her head. "He's a good kid. You know I approve, right?"

Without waiting for her reply, he left the room, leaving Ingrid to blush and think over the conversation.

-F-

As Ingrid retrieved the paper Saturday morning, footsteps on the sidewalk startled her, and when she looked up, Fillmore was grinning at her sheepishly.

"Sorry. I forgot you're a little jumpy."

"Please don't sneak up behind me again," Ingrid told him, and Fillmore smiled, leaning down to kiss her.

She blinked. "What…?"

"I had to get rid of that look somehow," he explained, grinning and tweaking her nose again.

Ingrid rolled her eyes and Fillmore frowned at her playfully. "What, I can't touch your nose?"

Ingrid gave him a pointed look and he almost whined, "But it's cute!"

She couldn't make her vocal cords work and just stared at him, jaw dropping.

Fillmore laughed, gently closing her mouth. "If you're not careful, you could end up swallowing a bird or something. You don't want that, do you?"

Ingrid shook her head, and Fillmore smiled.

Seconds later, Ingrid gasped as something cold hit her leg, and her eyes widened as she looked at Fillmore, who was grinning as he dropped the snowball.

"Don't _do_ that," she breathed, trying not to glare.

Fillmore rolled his eyes, his hand under her chin as he chuckled, "But then I wouldn't be able to wipe that silly look off your face," before he gently pressed his mouth to hers.

After a moment, Ingrid pulled away and could feel his eyes on her as she looked at the sidewalk.

"Has anybody ever told you you're adorable when you do that?"

She looked back up at Fillmore, blinking in surprise.

"No…"

"Well you are," he smiled, tapping her chin, his eyes sparkling as he regarded her softly.

She looked at him almost blankly, noticing the compassion as well as the playfulness behind his glasses.

"You're…_very_ adorable…" he continued, his voice lower than she was used to.

His grin was ear-to-ear and Ingrid only blinked, which increased the sparkle in his eyes.

"Even more so when you blush."

Her face grew warmer and she focused her attention on a crack in the cement.

"Third, are you okay?" Fillmore asked, the playfulness all but gone from his voice.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Ingrid."

The power in that one word startled her, and she looked up to find Fillmore staring intently at her.

"Ingrid, how long have we known each other? Four years? Five? I know you, your habits and what your expression mean. Something's not right, and I'm not leaving your side 'til you tell me what it is."

She knew he wasn't lying. In all the years they'd been partners, he'd always kept his word. It was just part of who he was.

"You want me in the bathroom with you?"

Ingrid shook her head mutely.

"Didn't think so. Heck, you flipped when I opened my eyes before you in the janitor's closet when you and Auggie traded clothes."

"I'd expected him to be staring and you to be turned around with your eyes closed, not the other way around."

Fillmore smiled, and she raised her eyebrows.

"Do I need to be worried about you, Cornelius?"

"Nope. I'm a perfect gentleman."

"Sure." Ingrid narrowed her gaze, and he held up his hands. "Okay, maybe I saw your stomach, but that's it, promise. Now will you tell me what's bugging you or do I have to force it out of you?"

Ingrid blinked in confusion but said nothing, and Fillmore poked her nose, adding, "And believe me, I could do that all day. Just depends on you."

His hand moved toward her nose again and Ingrid sighed. "Alright, you win. This morning, I got a phone call…"

Fillmore's expression grew stern and protective as he demanded, "From who?"

"Relax, Cornelius. It wasn't a threat or anything, just somebody from the police department asking me to make a statement and informing me that I'll probably have to testify against Sonny and his buddies in a couple of weeks."

Fillmore's expression didn't soften much, but his voice did.

"Oh. Well, are you gonna be able to?"

Ingrid's expression was almost ice-cold as she asked, "To testify? Of course."

"Just checking. You've been through a lot recently; I wanted to make sure you were ready for what will probably be an emotional rollercoaster."

The ice melted from her expression as Ingrid looked at him gratefully, quickly planting a kiss on his cheek.

Fillmore grinned.

"What?"

Fillmore's eyebrows rose pointedly. "You kissed me."

His eyes narrowed and his grin widened as he said, "And unlike _some_ people, I didn't set a limit."

Fillmore settled himself on the front steps, and Ingrid followed suit, sitting beside him as she replied gently, "It's not that I dislike or don't want you to—it's the complete opposite—it's just…"

She looked down and within a second, Fillmore's hand was under her chin, his gaze gentle as he supplied, "The warehouse, I know."

Ingrid smiled weakly. "I'm sure it'll fade with time, but for now…"

"I'll slow down," Fillmore chuckled, kissing her nose.

She blinked, and he laughed. "What's the deal with your nose? Do you not like it or something?"  
"I…don't know," Ingrid admitted, blinking.

* * *

"Well I happen to like your nose. But you know what I love most about you?"

Ingrid didn't respond, and Fillmore continued softly, "The fact that you don't let anything slow down or get in your way."

He grinned. "And you're adorable doing it, especially when you're completely focused on and passionate about something."

The look she gave him sent a jolt through him, and he resisted the urge to kiss her.

To his surprise and glee, he heard Ingrid mumble something before her lips brushed his temple, and his brain and his mouth disagreed. His mouth screamed "Kiss her" while his brain insisted, "Her pace, not yours."

"What was that?" he asked, ignoring the internal battle, and Ingrid blushed.

"I said, 'That's sweet'," she repeated, and he frowned teasingly. "_Just_ sweet?"

"Stop doing that," Ingrid demanded, and he tipped his head, his frown still in place.

"What?"

"Frowning at me."

"Why? Does that bug you, too?" He grinned.

"…Sort of." Ingrid looked unsure.

"Sort of?" Fillmore repeated.

There was a pause before Ingrid blurted, "Because you're cute when you frown, alright?"

Fillmore blinked, his grin widening. "Cute, huh?"

Ingrid's red face was all the answer he needed, and he chuckled, "Maybe I should do it more often."

Ingrid's eyes widened, then narrowed. "No, don't. Your face'll look funny forever."

He grinned. "Exactly. Then I'll be cute forever."

Ingrid rolled her eyes, and his grin widened, but before either could speak, the door squeaked open and Mr. Third's voice asked playfully, "What's going on out here?"

Fillmore grinned and turned around. "Just chatting."

"Really? Is that all?" Mr. Third smiled knowingly as he leaned against the porch fence.

"Yep," Fillmore replied, his grin matching Mr. Third's as he noticed Ingrid blushing.

"Because Ariella tells me—"

"Dad, what did you tell me last night?" Ingrid asked, eyebrows rising.

Her father tipped his head at her curiously, and Ingrid rolled her eyes, reminding him, "You said you approved, remember?"

"Ah, yes. But I meant I approved of Fillmore, dear," Mr. Third smiled.

"But you said it _after_ I told you he kissed me."

"Oh, that's right. I did, didn't I?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, never mind then. I'll just go back inside now. Fillmore, have you eaten? Ari's making pancakes if you'd like to join us."

Fillmore grinned, his hand in front of his mouth conspiratorially as he pretended to whisper, "I think I'd stay even if I wasn't hungry."

Ingrid's father laughed. "I knew I liked you."

He turned back to the door, asking, "Coming, Ingrid?"

With an exasperated sigh, Ingrid stood.

"Yes, I'm coming."

"Well, hurry up," Ariella informed her from the kitchen window. "Your pancakes are getting cold!"

Shaking her head, Ingrid followed her father and Fillmore, who smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Careful what you say, Cornelius. You may be banned from the house if you're not."

"Nah, you wouldn't do that," Fillmore grinned. "You love me too much."

Ingrid blinked as they walked into the kitchen, then smiled, "You're right."

It was Fillmore's turn to blink as he asked, "So, you're agreeing with me?"

For a moment, Ingrid's head rested on his shoulder as she answered, "I guess so."

Both Ariella and Mr. Third were smiling, and Ari broke the silence with, "How about we eat before our pancakes get cold?"

The quartet laughed and grabbed their plates.

* * *

**There ya have it. Chapter six. Of probably seven. Possibly eight.**

**Kind of a sucky ending, and the breaks are...alittle awkward, but oh well. It's almost eight thirty at night, and I'm tired.**

**I keep meaning to put this down as a note, but in chapter…two? When Fillmore helps Danny get into Vallejo's truck, they're talking about the sandwich and a "device". I think I meant to put **_**camera**_** but ended up with **_**sandwich**_** for some odd reason. Sorry 'bout that.**

**Hooray for cheesiness? Or not so much? The whole "OMG HE KISSED ME" thing was a little odd, but I figured the fact it was basically their first kiss would change Ingrid's character a little bit.**


	7. Courtroom

**Wow. Okay, so, unless my imagination goes insane or I get a bazillion comments telling me otherwise, this will be one of the last chapters of the fic. There may be one more after this, but that's probably about it.**

**This chapter is mainly the courtroom thing, and I hope it goes okay. I should have enough knowledge from watching so many episodes of Law & Order to write it correctly, but who knows. You'll have to tell me what you think.**

**The extra characters' names (the lawyers and the judge and stuff) are totally made up.**

**You know what I realized today (10-20-07)? There were four guys, and I think I said last chapter there were three… Sorry 'bout that.**

**Really, REALLY sorry about the super-long wait!!**

**--**

**Shout-outs!**

**Queen S of Randomness 016: Yep, just about done. Thanks for being such a constant reviewer. D**

**Narya100: You're very welcome, and thank you for the comments.**

**XCrystalizedxFireX****: Did you change your name?  
Yeah, bizarre and OOC for Ingrid, but my imagination went a little nutso. Glad you're okay with cheesiness. Thanks for reviewing. D**

**Chrysakitten: Wow, deaths? Then I'd prolly be dead by now, seeing as how I took FOREVER to update. Sorry. O.o;;; But thank you for the review!**

**L'AngeNoir: I forget if I already asked you this, but is your name something to do with "Black" in French? Because I love French.  
Anyway. Thanks for the reviews! And please don't cry too much. xD **

**Weasleytwinsrock: Updating right now, thankyouverymuch. Thanks for insisting. :D**

* * *

The courtroom was packed, and Fillmore couldn't help but feel overwhelmed as Ingrid took her seat on the witness stand. He knew she would do fine, but he couldn't shake the feeling that even though her friends and family were in the room, having her attackers nearby was making her slightly nervous. 

The assistant district attorney, a clever woman by the name of Hansen who happened to be a friend of Vallejo's family, had made sure Ingrid was ready for whatever questions the defense would be asking, but Ingrid still looked nervous.

As Check Matey's lawyer stood, Fillmore saw Ingrid tense up slightly, then relax as she glanced at Ariella, who was smiling encouragingly.

Check Matey's lawyer, a tall, brown-haired man with a slightly intimidating face called Graborn, walked toward Ingrid, beginning his inquiry.

"Miss Third, how old are you?"

Ingrid's eyebrows knitted together curiously as she replied, "Seventeen."

The lawyer nodded, then asked, "And you have a good memory?"

Ingrid almost laughed as she informed him, "It's photographic, so I remember even those things I'd rather forget."

"Interesting…Would those things include…" The attorney's hand swirled through the air, as if he was trying to find the right word.

"Being raped?" Ingrid supplied, her eyebrows rising. "Yes, that is seared in my memory."

"Seared, you say?"

"You're not deaf, are you, Mr. Graborn?"

Graborn's head tilted. "I believe I'm the one asking the questions, young lady."

"Right. I'm sorry. Go on." Ingrid smiled, though Fillmore knew it was mostly forced.

"Thank you. Now, you remember exactly where and when this alleged rape took place, yes?"

"I believe I just answered that question, but yes."

"And you remember exactly _who_ allegedly raped you?"

"They didn't do anything to conceal their identities, and I have a photographic memory, so yes."

"Do you see the alleged rapists in the room today?"

"You're defending one of them. They're at the same table you just stood up from," was Ingrid's controlled reply.

"Would you please point them out for the jury?"

Almost grudgingly, Ingrid raised her finger and pointed at Check Matey, Peters, Parnassus, and Sonny, asking, "Would you like me to name them and tell you how I know them, too?"

Graborn considered the question for a moment and then nodded. "Sure."

"Warren Foot, AKA Check Matey, Johan Peters, Brad Parnassus, and Sonny Lombard. All four are classmates of mine who I have helped to catch in various small crimes at school."

"Crimes? How do you do that?"

"I was part of the X Middle School Safety Patrol, and now am an officer in the High School's branch of the Safety Patrol."

"And have you caught them on your own?"

"No. The rest of the Safety Patrol helps, my partner especially."

Ingrid looked a bit nervous mentioning Fillmore, and Graborn seemed to notice and take advantage of that fact, asking, "Your partner? And who is that?"

Ingrid blinked, then responded, "Cornelius Fillmore."

Graborn walked back to the table, flipping open a notebook before inquiring, "And young Mr. Fillmore is a former delinquent himself, is he not?"

Fillmore winced, annoyed at the lawyer's question, and saw Ingrid almost glare at the man before she responded, "Yes, but he's on the Safety Patrol now, catching the perps."

"But he's a former delinquent," Graborn insisted.

Ingrid was obviously holding back a glare. "Yeah, but so am I. If you're questioning Fillmore's ability to catch rule breakers, then you're also questioning mine. And what does his past have to do with my being raped?"

Ingrid turned to the judge, a short, stocky man named Williams, with her question, and the older man nodded. "I agree. Mr. Graborn, what is the relevance of your question?"

Graborn, who looked stunned that his question was being questioned, answered, "I…Your Honor, I am merely—"

The assistant district attorney stood, declaring, "Your Honor, Mr. Graborn obviously can't come up with an explanation for his question. May we move on to the next one?"

The judge nodded, deciding, "Yes. Mr. Graborn, please find another question."

Graborn looked frustrated, and cemented the fact by sighing, "No more questions, Your Honor."

Ms. Hansen stood, addressing Williams. "Your Honor, may I continue questioning Ms. Third?"

"Ask away, Ms. Hansen."

"Thank you. Ingrid, could you please tell the court exactly what happened the night you were raped?"

"Objection. _Allegedly_ raped," Graborn complained.

"Mr. Graborn, you will be quiet or you will leave my courtroom," warned the judge.

Graborn's mouth snapped shut and Hansen continued, "Ingrid?"

Ingrid cleared her throat and began, "It was seven weeks ago. I'd stayed late at school to help clean up a mess at school. I was walking home, and all of a sudden a van pulled up beside me, a guy grabbed me and shoved me inside, and Peters and Parnassus talked while Parnassus drove…it seemed like forever, and I thought they were kidnapping me. And when they finally stopped, we were at this abandoned warehouse and…" Ingrid stopped talking, presumably looking at her feet.

"Ingrid, can you tell me what happened inside the warehouse?" Hansen's voice was soft, encouraging, and Ingrid took a breath before continuing, "They pulled me inside with them where Warren and Sonny were waiting. They…"

Ingrid was blinking back tears, and her voice was strained, but she continued, "Warren, Sonny, and Peters…raped me. Parnassus just sat there and…and watched."

Ingrid shook her head with the statement, and Fillmore looked at the jury. A few of their faces showed disgust, and one or two looked sympathetic, but their expressions changed when Hansen asked, "And can you tell me _exactly_ what happened? Who did what, perhaps?"

Ingrid blinked a few times, preparing herself for the rest of her testimony, which came out barely above a whisper.

"They each raped me a different way. Che—Warren raped me orally, Sonny 'normally' and Peters…the third way."

"Thank you, Ingrid," Hansen smiled sympathetically, looking at the jury and the defense table pointedly before asking, "And Ingrid, what happened as a result of this rape?"

Ingrid's head popped up, her eyebrows knitting together as Hansen prodded, "There aren't any complications as a result of the rape that you're aware of, are there?"

"I'm pregnant," Ingrid stated almost noncommittally.

"Thank you," Hansen nodded, sitting back down.

Graborn stood back up, but the judge shot him a look and he took his seat again.

"Court will recess for lunch," Williams decided, the gavel landing on his desk. "We will recommence in one hour."

Ingrid stood up, visibly relieved that the ordeal was over, and sped for the back of the courtroom. As she reached him, Fillmore caught her arm and slowed her down, smiling as he declared, "You did good, Third."

"I'm glad it's over with," was her whispered reply before she continued toward the doors, slipping through and sinking onto a bench in the hallway on the other side.

Ariella sat down next to her, and Fillmore made to do to the same, but Mr. Third pulled the younger male aside with a slightly-shaky hand on his arm. Fillmore's head tilted in curiosity as Mr. Third explained, "Fillmore, what is about Ingrid that you find so fascinating?"

Fillmore frowned. "…I don't quite follow you…"

"It seems to me that the reason you first associated with Ingrid was because you were somewhat forced to do so. Surely something kept you interested, kept you from ignoring her."

"She's brilliant," Fillmore reminded the older man, who gave him a pointed look.

"Aside from that."

Fillmore smiled. "I wasn't forced to associate with her, I chose to help her out. She confessed to something I knew she hadn't done. What was I supposed to do? Let her spend her school career in detention?" The smile turned to a grin. "And it turned out all right, didn't it?"

"Oh, I dunno about that…"

The duo shared a laugh, and Mr. Third agreed, "Yes, you're a good kid. But you haven't exactly answered my question."

"Sure I have. Ingrid's a genius, I needed a new partner, and she was available. And we make a good team."

"Yes, you do. With her brains and your heart, you're a perfect match."

Fillmore's right eyebrow rose as he inquired, "Is the term 'soul mates' crossing your mind?"

"Perhaps," was the grinned, semi-elusive reply before Ariella's voice cut into their conversation.

"Are you two about finished?"

"Just about," Mr. Third smiled. "We're just discussing a few things."

"Well, I think Ingrid and I are gonna try and find some lunch…"

"Then I guess we're done, wouldn't you say, Fillmore?"

"Sure. I think I've answered your question thoroughly enough, don't you?"

"I suppose you have," Mr. Third agreed. "Let's go find that lunch."

--

After they'd eaten, the quartet headed back to the courthouse, running into a pack of reporters searching for a new lead on the story.

"Oh, great," Ariella groaned. "More blood hounds."

"Oh, don't worry about them. They want a story, I'll give 'em one," Mr. Third winked.

Ariella frowned and asked warily, "Um, Dad? Just what are you planning on telling them?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that. You three just head back inside and I'll catch up soon."

"All right…" Ariella agreed skeptically, leading Ingrid back inside the courthouse.

She turned to look at Fillmore, and he waved at her to keep going and looked at Mr. Third.

"What exactly are you planning, sir?"

"Sir? Oh, come on, Fillmore, you're practically my son."

Fillmore raised an eyebrow. "You want me to call you 'Dad,' Mr. Third?"

Mr. Third's eyebrows rose playfully as he returned, "Maybe."

"You're very cryptic…" Fillmore stated thoughtfully, receiving a grin from Mr. Third.

"Yes, I realize that. Thank you for reminding me."

"You're welcome. So just what were you going to say to those reporters?"

"Oh, nothing. Unless they approached us."

Fillmore blinked in confusion. "Really?"

"Yep. Now how about we head inside?"

Fillmore stared at him, and Mr. Third smiled. "Well, we don't want the girls worried, do we?"

"I guess not…"

"All right, then, let's go!"

Still confused but conscious of the time, Fillmore followed Mr. Third back to the courtroom, where Judge Williams resituated himself and called the trail back to order.

"Yes, Counselor?" he sighed, in the same tone and with the same expression Vallejo sometimes gave Fillmore.

Graborn smiled triumphantly. "Your Honor, in light of new evidence, the Defense would like to add Cornelius Fillmore to our list of witnesses."

Fillmore blinked. _Huh?_

Ingrid looked at him, her eyes asking the same question that was running through his head: Why Fillmore?

The judge seemed to perceive the same thing, asking, "And just what is this new evidence, Mr. Graborn?"

"A few new facts that have surfaced recently that I would like to have clarified," Graborn replied confidently.

Williams sighed. "All right, I suppose I'll allow it. But tread carefully, Counselor."

Knowing what was coming next, Fillmore forced himself into the aisle before Graborn could even announce him as the next witness.

Looking quite pleased with himself, Graborn smiled politely at Fillmore as he seated himself, hurriedly promised to tell the whole truth, and sat.

Graborn began, "Now, your real name is Cornelius, yes?"

"Yes," Fillmore replied, trying not to sound bored and annoyed.

"And you are Ms. Third's Safety Patrol partner, correct?"

"You already established that, Fillmore sighed, looking at the judge.

Graborn ignored Fillmore's tone. "And you found out about your partner's being attacked…when?"

"A few weeks afterward."

"Why not immediately afterward?"

"Because Ingrid didn't feel comfortable sharing with anybody."

"Mmmm…" Graborn bobbed his head, thinking over the answer and his next question.

"And you know the defendants, yes?"

"Yes."

"And they were upset with you and your partner, perhaps?"

"That's my guess."

"And they decided to allegedly rape your partner?"

"Apparently."

"Why not come after you? Or the both of you? Why just Ingrid?"

"I don't know—ask your client." Fillmore stared at the man, resisting the urge to jump up and shake some sense into him.

"And Mr. Fillmore, is it safe to assume that you were upset with the defendants?"

"Of course."

"But you didn't try to get even?"

"They're all sitting right there, and they look perfectly fine to me."

"Why is that?"

"Why do they look fine? I didn't do anything to 'em. Except get 'em to leave Ingrid alone about a week ago."

Graborn blinked, obviously not knowing that bit of information. "Oh?"

"They were harassing her near her home. I scared them off."

"Mhmm…" Graborn walked over to the defense's table, consulted his notepad, and asked, "And you brought Ms. Third back to the place she was allegedly raped prior to the harassment issue?"

Fillmore felt the blood drain from his face but managed to reply calmly, "I was trying to see if she'd remember anything more about the attack."

"By bringing her back to where it happened?" Graborn looked confused, probably for the jury's benefit.

"It happens all the time—you bring the victim back to the scene of their attack and sometimes they remember more about it."

"Was that the case with Ms. Third?"

Fillmore regretted replying, "Not that I can tell. It just brought back the memory and made her break down. But she's fine now." _Minus your stupid questions, anyway._

* * *

The questions continued until Hansen objected and suggested they bring in the experts, all four of whom testified that the evidence indicated Ingrid had been raped in the warehouse by the four defendants on trial on the day Ingrid said the attack happened. 

The jury deliberated for only an hour, returning with a guilty-of-rape verdict for Sonny, Johan, and Warren, and a guilty-of-conspiracy-to-commit-rape verdict for Parnassus. All four started grumbling and complaining and screaming at their lawyers as they were lead out of the court room.

Standing up, Ingrid sighed, began to cry, and was wrapped in a hug by Hansen, who smiled at Fillmore and Ingrid's family, declaring, "You're very welcome. You won't be seeing those guys for a while."

Ingrid smiled, wiping away a few tears. "No, we won't. Thank you."

Hansen smiled, but was pulled away by court officer carrying a note

Feeling quite exhausted, Ingrid headed out of the room, the other three following her but not saying a word, giving her some time to process everything from the day.

She barely noticed when they stopped at Fillmore's house to drop him off, and getting out at her own house barely registered. When she reached her room, she flopped down on her bed and fell asleep dreaming of a little girl with sparkling dark eyes and black hair.

* * *

**Just over 2440 words. More pattern. xD**

**Yep, strange last chapter, but you should be used to stuff like that from me. **

**I realize the courtroom thing was probably a little off, but I got writer's block and abandoned the chapter for, like, a month and finally just finished it. My imagination went insane.**

**There will be at least one more chapter, and I'm working on a few fics that sorta kinda follow this one (maybe multi-chaps, maybe just one shots, I dunno yet), but in order to work on them, I need a name for the baby. I'm thinking possibly "Miko," which are the Japanese words "Mi" (beautiful) and "ko" (child) put together. I dunno. I'm thinking it should have "child" or "beautiful" or something like that in it. If you think of something else, let me know. I'd appreciate it a lot!**

**Doesn't have to be Japanese, but I'd like her to have a cool name with a cool meaning, just because I'm odd like that. :****P**


	8. Carly Elizabeth

**This'll probably be the final chapter of OMSM, but don't worry. I will probably be continuing with Fillmore/Ingrid-related fics (working on a few at the moment, actually), so the fun shall continue. :D**

**Not exactly in any particular point of view until later on. Starts out sort of from Ingrid's POV, then gets distorted and goes into other VPs… Because I'm weird that way.**

**Just some random information for the readers of my Fillmore fics:**

**"When" comment made in seventh grade, five years before graduation.  
Ingrid was seventeen in OMSM (which was in December), and the rape happened at the beginning of November, so she was about seven weeks pregnant.  
Carly Elizabeth born in June, so nobody missed any school.  
Fillmore and Ingrid and everybody graduated that May, and Ingrid was six months pregnant.  
For Better or Worse was the next year (six years after "When" comment, remember?), so Carly was about a year old, Ingrid and Fillmore nineteen or twenty. **

**This chapter is, of course, about the baby's birth, but also about a complication that is quite close to my heart. It occurs in between five and ten percent of all pregnancies, and can be fatal for mother, child, or both. My mother had it when I was born, and it ended with me being born three months ahead of schedule, my mother not a completely happy camper while being sick before I was delivered. It was deadly for the twins my grandmother was pregnant with before my aunt and my dad were born, so she was especially worried about us. But it turned out all right for us, thank goodness. **

**--**

**Shout-out Time!**

**Queen S of Randomness 016: Again, thanks for being such a constant reviewer, and I hope the final chapter comes out as awesomely as you've find the others to be.**

**Chrysakitten: Okay, so I lied. I wasn't quite done with the fic. Thanks for reviewing and suggesting. :D**

**-RunningFromTheInside-: Glad you liked it, and I'm updating right now, obviously. :D**

**LAngeNoir: Oh, yes. Angel. That makes sense, and it fits. Thanks for reviewing:D**

**Weasleytwinsrock: You're very welcome!**

**Wingz: Thanks so much, and I hope you're content with this chapter. :D**

**Amorye: Thanks for reviewing and suggesting, and I hope you like the final chapter as much as you seemed to like the first seven!**

**And thanks to everybody else who reviewed while I was updating the fic but didn't get mentioned (which should be very few…) and those who will review—I really appreciate the good things you guys have to say about my writing. Insults will be thrown into the fire that is my imagination to help keep Writer's Block away. :D**

**

* * *

**Sitting bolt upright in bed, Ingrid looked frantically around the room. A moment later, she was breathing easier, remembering that she was in her own room and realizing that what had woken her up must have just been the baby kicking or something similar. But as she tried to fall back to sleep, she felt it again, a sharp pain near her stomach. Now worried, she sat up again and called tentatively, "Ari?" 

She could hear her sister fumbling around in her bedroom across the hall, presumably for her bathrobe, then heard the door open just before Ariella poked her head into Ingrid's room, mumbling a sleepy, "It's like two in the morning. What's the matter?"  
Ingrid glanced at her alarm clock, stifled a yawn, and whispered in reply, "I…I keep feeling this weird pain by my stomach, and I don't know what it is."

"It's probably just the baby kicking, now go back to sleep."

As Ariella turned to go back to her room, Ingrid insisted, "Ari, I think something's wrong. I've got a weird feeling about this…"

Ariella sighed. "All right, if it makes you feel better, I guess we can try to go see the doctor later today. But right now we all need some sleep, okay?"

"All right…"

Ariella left the room, and Ingrid could hear her settling back into her own bed, but try as she might, Ingrid couldn't fall back to sleep. The events of the past few months kept prancing through her head, somewhat like a broken record stuck on the same few lines of a song…

_**--Flashback--**_

"…Kristina Taylor…"

The cheers and clapping erupted once again from the audience as Kristina stepped forward to receive her diploma.

A few more names were called, and then Ingrid heard her own name leaving Principal Folsom's lips and found herself walking onstage to shake a few hands and take her diploma. She barely remembered to switch the tassel on her cap to its now-correct position before descending back into the large mob that was her fellow students.

And then it was over. Ingrid's Valedictorian speech had been given, the last name called, the last cap retrieved from where it had fallen, the last hug given to fellow graduates. And before she knew it, Ingrid was back home, sitting on her bed and talking to her soon-to-be-born child, an action that had become a habit over the past few months.

"Well, little one, Mommy's done with school. At least for a few more months..."

_**--End Flashback--**_

There was an unexpected knock on her door and it was opened a moment later, her father's head appearing from behind it.

"Ingrid? You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Ingrid replied as Mr. Third sat down beside her.

"So why did you need your sister at two in the morning?"

Mr. Third's expression was one of almost disbelief, and Ingrid ducked her head for a moment before answering, "I just had a funny feeling is all. I'm fine now."

"You're sure?"

Ingrid nodded. "Uh huh, don't worry about it."

"All right, if you're sure. But did I hear something about a doctor visit?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing," Ingrid assured him, though she wasn't sure of herself.

Her father's expression said he was in her boat, but he only kissed the top of her head and headed for the door, yawning, "All right, well, try to get some sleep."

With a sigh, Ingrid found herself lying back down only to be startled awake what felt like seconds later. Rubbing her eyes and looking at her clock, she realized she'd been asleep for almost three hours, her attention turning back to what had awoken her in the first place: the kicking near her abdomen.

Laughing softly, she sat up again and declared quietly, "Gee, you're excited, aren't you? What's the matter, little one?"

The only response from the little life form was another kick that made Ingrid's eyes widen.

"Hey, that one kinda hurt."

The baby didn't seem to care—another kick followed soon after, and Ingrid's gaze narrowed curiously.

"So, does this mean you're gonna be a strong little baby?"

Again, the little leg moved, and Ingrid laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."

Once more, the pain in her stomach returned, and Ingrid suddenly felt nauseous.

With her hand to her mouth, she forced herself off the bed and raced to the bathroom, just barely making it into the room before the nausea increased and she lost the remnants of what she figured to be all three of yesterday's meals.

Her father and Ariella both rushed for her, coming so quickly that they got stuck in the doorway and ended up squeezing through one at a time, Ariella reaching Ingrid first and reaching over to flush the toilet before asking, "Ingrid, are you okay?"

Shaking, Ingrid replied, "I…think so…"

Her eyes widened in a flash and she whispered a question so softly that Ariella had to prompt her to repeat it.

"What did you say?"

Taking a shaky breath, Ingrid repeated, "Tox…toxemia?"

"I…don't understand…" Ariella stuttered, confused.

"Toxemia?" Mr. Third repeated. "Oh, preeclampsia, yes. One of your mother's friends had it when she had her first baby…"

"The one who got really sick and had to have her baby like three months early?" Ariella blinked, and Mr. Third nodded. Then, as if just realizing the implications of Ingrid's statement, he jumped and ran out of the room, returning with the phone and a medical dictionary that Ariella eyed curiously.

Mr. Third explained quickly, "I borrowed it from the college to look up a few things after we found out Ingrid was pregnant."

"Oh. Well, what's it say about toxemia?"

Ingrid answered the question: "…elevated blood pressure, protein in urine, and hyper-reflexia--really over-the-top reflexes. If symptoms worsen, pre-eclampsia develops--headache, epigastric pain--stomach ache with nausea and vomiting…"

Ariella's gaze turned completely serious and concerned as she asked, "So what do we do about it?"

Mr. Third's expression was one of disbelief as he replied, "Head for the hospital, wouldn't you say?"

Ariella's gaze dropped to the ground. "Right. Sorry."

Ingrid interrupted what Mr. Third was about to say next by lunging for the toilet again and then sinking back against the bathtub, shivering and clutching her stomach.

Mr. Third went into father-mode, directing Ariella to go start the car while he picked up Ingrid and prayed she didn't continue vomiting on the way to the hospital.

As he reached the car, Ariella ran back into the house, emerging moments later with her cell phone, a towel, and an empty ice cream bucket, which she placed on the floor between her feet after settling herself and Ingrid in the backseat.

The drive to the hospital was quiet and relatively uneventful, save for Ingrid's shivering and almost throwing-up twice more before Mr. Third pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Minutes later, they were rushing into the building with Ingrid in a wheelchair they'd found just outside the building, frantically searching for a nurse or doctor who could offer their assistance.

They finally ran into a very flustered-looking young nurse who, after demanding they slow down and repeat their story, took the wheelchair handles from Mr. Third's grasp and power-walked down the hallway until she reached a door marked with several "Authorized Personnel Only" signs and pointed to a set of chairs a few yards from the door.

"Sit," she told them, then whisked Ingrid through the swinging door calling for a doctor "STAT!"

For a moment, it was all Ariella and Mr. Third could do to just stare at the doors. Then, slowly, they came out of their trance and trudged down the hall, sinking into the chairs.

Before long, Ariella leaped from her seat, then sat back down as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket, dialing a number all three of the Thirds knew by heart and praying that someone would pick up.

The phone rang only twice before a sleepy voice asked, "Hello?"

"Um, Mr. Fillmore?" Ariella guessed, sighing in relief when Karim replied, "Yes. Ariella?"

"Uh huh. Look, I'm sorry to wake you up, but I need to talk to Fill—Cornelius."

Karim's voice sounded concerned as he answered, "All right, I'll go get him…"

Several long minutes later, Fillmore was on the line, asking worriedly, "Ari, is something wrong with Ingrid?"

Ariella pursed her lips before answering, "Actually, yes. We're at the hospi—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Fillmore was interrupting, "What happened?"

"We're not exactly sure, but Ingrid thinks it's tox-something-or-other…"

"Toxemia?" Fillmore groaned.

"Yeah. How do you guys know about it?"

"We learned a little about it at school, and after Ingrid found out she was pregnant, she did some more research…"

"Oh."

"So where is she right now?"

"I'm not sure. A nurse took her and told us to sit down…"

"I'm on my way."

The line was disconnected before Ariella could respond, and she closed her cell phone with a dazed expression that made her father ask, "Ari? Everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Fillmore's on his way here…"

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now. I was gonna tell him to wait, but he already hung up."

"Then how about we go wait for him?"

"I guess we should…"

They both stood, Mr. Third pulling another nurse aside to ask what she knew about Ingrid and to let her know where they'd be if anything new happened, then headed to the entrance they'd come in, barely getting there before Fillmore rushed through the doors, followed by his parents.

When he spotted Ariella and Mr. Third, Fillmore made a beeline for them and asked, "Anything?"

"The nurse just told me that Ingrid should be okay, but they'll need to deliver the baby soon…"

Fillmore blinked. "When?"

"I don't know—"

"How come nobody's telling you anything?!"

"Cornelius, honey, just calm down," Joelle said quietly, looking at Karim as if expecting him to take care of the issue.

"Calm down? How on Earth am I supposed to be calm when Ingrid could _die_?" Fillmore demanded, whirling on his mother, whose eyes widened.

"Cornelius," his father warned, "you're going to calm down or so help me, I will ground you 'til Kingdom Come."

Karim's facial expression coupled with his stern tone must have jolted Fillmore out of his enraged state. His shoulders dropped, his eyes widened, and his gaze sank to the floor as he mumbled what was probably an apology.

"Thank you," Karim sighed. "Now please, will you go sit down?"

Shoulders slumping, Fillmore obliged, flopping into a nearby chair.

Ariella followed him, sitting in the chair next to him and leaning over to give him a long hug.

Mr. Third looked at the Fillmores, sighing.

Karim smiled encouragingly at him, declaring, "Ingrid will be fine. She's a strong girl; she'll pull through just fine."

"She got through the trial just fine," Joelle reminded him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "And we _are_ in a hospital. They know what they're doing."

Mr. Third chuckled. "Good points, both of you. Thank you."

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" Karim smiled, and Mr. Third returned it gratefully.

Soon, the nurse Mr. Third had pulled aside before the Fillmore family had arrived pulled him aside, explaining, "We're going to do a Cesarean section to delivery Ingrid's baby. The doctor will be starting the procedure shortly."

"Are…Could one of us be in the room with her?"

The nurse's gaze softened and she gave him a sad look. "Well, I suppose, but you wouldn't be allowed to watch the actual delivery. It's just standard procedure in these kinds of situations, you understand."

"Yes, I understand. But I could be in the room to see my grandchild?"

"If you'd like, yes. We'll have to hurry and get you a gown and a few other things, though."

"Sure. Thank you."

The nurse flashed him a brief smile before he walked over to Fillmore.

"Cornelius? They're going to deliver the baby soon. They're going to let one of us in the room, but we won't be allowed to see much. Would it be all right with you if I went?"

"Uh...yeah, sure," Fillmore blinked. "Yeah, go ahead. Just be sure to come back and tell us as soon as they're okay, all right?"

Mr. Third smiled. "Of course. You've got it."

Minutes later, Mr. Third was dressed in hospital garb and entering the sterile room littered with hospital staff. The nurse led him to a corner of the room where he could almost see everything going on, reminding him, "Now, you'll be able to see some of what's going on, but we'd rather you stay over this way so you…" She smiled apologetically. "So you're not in the way."

"I understand," he smiled.

A few minutes later, the cries of his grandchild punctured the air, and a few more minutes later, a nurse allowed him a few seconds to see the little girl, and another ushered him out the door and led him back to where Ariella and the Fillmores were waiting.

Fillmore made to stand up as he approached, but Mr. Third gave a gentle smile and motioned for him to stay in his chair.

"They're both fine. It's a girl, and she's beautiful."

He could see the weight drop from Fillmore's chest at his words and walked over to place a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Has Ingrid mentioned names to you?"

Fillmore gave him a curious look, and he explained, "She hasn't talked to me about anything baby-related. I figured she prefers talking to you over her father."

He smiled, and Fillmore smiled back. "Hey, she loves you. You're right, she does talk to me more. But she hasn't really mentioned baby names…"

"Really? Not even with her future husband?" Mr. Third grinned, the question making Fillmore blush and stammer, "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Cornelius. Everybody knows you've liked Ingrid since the day you convinced Vallejo to put you two together. We've always known there was something special between the two of you, but apparently you haven't?" Mr. Third suggested, smiling.

Fillmore's blush deepened, and Karim chuckled. "That's a guilty face if I've ever seen one."

"Karim," Joelle scolded, though she too was smiling.

"Can we get back to figuring out a name for my niece?" Ariella asked, successfully regaining the quartet's attention.

"Sure. So you're sure she hasn't mentioned any names, even if they're just names she likes?"

"No—wait, she did say she thought 'Carly' was a good name… She found it online somewhere and said it means 'strong' or something…"

"You know, when I told her her mother and I were thinking of naming her Elizabeth before she was born, she said it would make a better nickname…"

"Carly Elizabeth?" Fillmore interpreted.

Mr. Third smiled. "If Ingrid agrees."

--

A few weeks later, with the doctors' permission—two very amazed doctors, in Ingrid's opinion, though she wasn't surprised at all—Ingrid was allowed to bring Carly Elizabeth home.

Carly had proven just as strong as everyone had said her mother was, for after just three weeks in the hospital, she had been deemed healthy enough to leave, flustering her doctors.

Now, as Ingrid placed her three-week old daughter in the crib that the Safety Patrol had chipped in to buy for her, she smiled down at the little girl who eight months ago had not even been on her radar, so to speak and was now the most precious thing she could ever dream of.

* * *

**Wow, exactly 2600 words. The ending's a little abrupt, but that's all right. **

**I hope.**

**Toxemia info came from webmd . com ****and storknet . com, ****along with some of my mother's own experiences. **

**Believe it or not, my father was made to sit in a corner of the room while they did a C-section on my mom the day I was born, and I spent ninety days in two different hospitals before I could go home. I modified that and used the baby's name as inspiration for the fact that she was early and wasn't in the hospital very long before going home. **

**I found the name Carly on ****where it translates to "strong one" in Elvish. Yes, Elvish. I felt like using a different language for the baby's name, and decided, "Hey, let's go Elvish." So yes, it's different, but that's the point. :D**

**Yes, I will be continuing the Fillmore/Ingrid thing. I mean, I already had them get married. Maybe I should do a proposal fic? xP I am working on a few others that should eventually be posted…**


End file.
